


And Time Went On

by Morena_Evensong



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Canon-Typical Violence, Dubious Science, Ghosts, Haunted Houses, Humour, M/M, MCU/EMH/616 Fusion, Mentions of off-screen abuse, Mystery, Science Fiction, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-05
Updated: 2015-11-05
Packaged: 2018-04-30 01:50:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 106,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5145830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morena_Evensong/pseuds/Morena_Evensong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two hundred years ago the Mandarin attacked Washington, the first stage of his plan for world domination.  And the Avengers... vanished.  All except Iron Man, who eventually managed to defeat the Mandarin with the help of SHIELD, a few other superheroes, and their friends.  </p><p>Now, nearly two hundred years after the death of Anthony Stark, the current Stark heir, Tony, is moving into the forgotten Stark Manor in order to avoid falling into the clutches of the United World Council.  But Stark Manor isn't just an empty old house and mice aren't the only things that have been inhabiting it for the past two hundred years.  As Tony uncovers the secrets of Stark Manor, and more than a few horrifying truths about the world he lives in, a powerful threat suddenly arises.  One that leaves shattered cities and seas of bodies in its wake as it slowly sweeps its way across a world that no longer has a last line of defense.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prelude

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2015 Marvel Big Bang Challenge. Author's notes at the beginning of chapter 1. And make sure you all check out the amazing [artwork](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5125907) done for this story by **dark_roast**.

**Ancient History**

It was a quiet, peaceful night. The moon was bright and nearly full, though its true brilliance was lost amid the smog and bright city lights. A tall stone fence surrounded the manor grounds, keeping away most of the city's noise as it bustled and teemed with life despite the hour. The grounds were meticulously-groomed, though simple in design, with a few large trees that cast tall shadows over a lawn of thick, short-cut grass that ended in a large terrace of stone tiles.

In the centre of the grounds stood a sprawling manor, like a fortress in the dark. It was made of stone, a tribute to the post-war era. The driveway was long, but not too long (this was New York and not the countryside, after all) with a large, stone fountain featuring Venus and a retinue of barely-clad nymphs lounging with their giant urns of perpetually circulating water.

Despite the open spaces, the dark and shadows should've made it menacing – and almost did – but there was an air of _something_ that seemed to keep any dread from forming. As though the manor's inhabitants had left a permanent mark upon the grounds, their will and courage giving it a feeling of safety that couldn't be erased with the simple setting of the sun.

A light came on within the manor and then another. One by one, lights throughout the house flicked on, only to shut off moments later.

And then the stillness of the night was broken with a furious gust of wind and a pillar of light so intense the ground seemed to shake beneath it. It disappeared as abruptly as it had appeared, leaving a large patch of partially-scorched grass and five figures. The oldest, a regal woman with a kind face and wearing a long, heavy gown, walked immediately away from the others, who quickly scanned the area with sharp eyes. The darkness didn't seem to be a hindrance to them, but they froze and turned as one at the sound of a slamming door.

A figure ran towards them from the manor. He wore a white tuxedo shirt and black pants, his tie partially undone. He was neither old nor young and his short dark hair was sticking up in patches, as though he'd been pulling at it. His eyes were wide and worried – just short of frightened.

“Are you here to get him?” he called without preamble. “Do you know where they are?”

“Alas, friend Anthony, we ourselves have come to find our friend,” the first man replied, his face grim though he looked like one prone to easy laughter.

“He disappeared from Heimdall's gaze several hours ago,” the second woman of the company added. Unlike the first, she was dressed in armour and had the fierce, steady gaze of a warrior.

Friend Anthony's eyes widened even further, fear finally showing fully within their depths. “What? I thought that was impossible! Isn't Heimdall supposed to see everything, like everywhere?”

“Indeed, he can,” a heavy-set man answered him. “And yet he cannot see Thor.”

“And that's really, really bad?”

“Aye, 'tis bad tidings indeed,” said the warrior-woman solemnly.

The man from the manor took a deep breath. “Does that mean he's dead?”

The warriors – all of them were dressed in armour, so undoubtedly that is what they were – exchanged glances.

“We do not know,” the first man replied. “Whatever has happened, Heimdall cannot find even a body to confirm the Prince's fate. Nor that of his Midgardian shieldmates.”

A soft breeze blew across the manor grounds and then the regal woman spoke for the first time, her voice soft, yet firm:

“He is not dead.”

Anthony spun towards her. “You're sure about that?” he demanded, the hope in his voice painful to the others' ears. “Absolutely sure? How can you know?”

“I am his mother,” she replied, her gaze set on the object sticking out of the ground in front of her. “I would know if my son was dead. Wherever he is, I am certain it is not within death's clutches, yet he may still be out of our reach.”

“And you're absolutely, one hundred percent sure about that?”

The moment's hesitation was enough for the last shred of hope within his eyes to die. She finally turned to him, tears she was too proud to let fall glimmering in the corners of her eyes. “No, I am not.”

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, as though needing to absorb the information before he could believe it.

“But Mjolnir refuses to leave.”

He opened his eyes and looked to the object at her feet. Sure enough, though somehow looking duller than usual, the familiar hammer rested in the grass as though simply waiting for its owner to come claim it. The woman reached down to pick it up, but it refused to budge. She let go and straightened.

“I know not what it means, but it gives me hope.”

“No offence, but right now we need a lot more than hope,” said a new voice, smooth, yet crisp and commanding attention.

They turned to the newcomer, a bland, unassuming-looking man in a generic black suit that fit well without accentuating any assets he may or may not have had. Those with a trained eye would have noticed the slight bulge of a side-arm at his left side and a relatively expensive-looking fountain pen next to the small notebook in his breast pocket.

“Agent Coulson,” Anthony greeted.

“Mister Stark,” the agent returned with a polite nod. “I'm afraid we don't have time for pleasantries. A man calling himself the Mandarin just single-handedly broke into the White House, decimated their security and killed the President and his family. He's currently broadcasting a list of demands from there, including the complete and unconditional surrender of the United States Military.”

Anthony gaped. “Seriously? And he actually thinks they'll say 'yes'?!”

Agent Coulson shrugged. “We're rather more concerned with what he thinks he has to back up those demands.”

Running a hand through his already messy hair, Anthony let out a bitter, slightly hysterical laugh. “Well, unfortunately the only showing we've got for the Avengers is piles of dirty laundry and my brand new, not-so-shiny lawn ornament.” The breath caught in his throat for a moment. “I-I've looked everywhere, Coulson. They're not here... apparently not even Heimdall can find them. They're _gone_.”

“We know.”

Anthony's eyes snapped to the SHIELD agent and narrowed. “What do you mean– ”

“Jarvis notified us almost immediately.”

Pain, regret, flashed through Anthony's eyes. “I was at the gala,” he whispered. “Left my phone in my jacket pocket and then took it off. I–” He took a deep breath. “I didn't see the message until half an hour ago.”

Agent Coulson nodded. “The footage isn't helpful. Something interfered with the signal and when it came back less than five minutes later, they were all gone.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Iron Man wasn't with them.”

Anthony took a shaky breath. “Yeah, okay, I'll call him and tell him to go to Washington.”

“You and I both know that won't be necessary.”

Anthony's eyes snapped up again, glaring at the agent. Then he huffed. “Of course you know,” he said. “Damn you! Did the others...?”

“No. So long as it wasn't interfering with the team's performance, we respected your decision to keep your identity secret. Though I'm not guaranteeing that Natasha hadn't figured it out for herself.”

Anthony snorted. “No, of course not.” He looked over to the warriors. “You guys sticking around or heading back?”

The regal woman smiled slightly. “I shall return to Asgard so I may inform my husband of my findings,” she said before looking to the other four. “You may do as you like.”

The other woman bowed her head to her. “Thank you, Lady Frigga,” she said. She straightened proudly and placed a hand on the hilt of her sword. “Then we shall stay and fight in our Prince's stead.”

The same bright pillar of light carried the Queen of Asgard away just moments later, leaving behind the smell of ozone and smouldering grass. Anthony stared at the design singed into his back lawn and shook his head.

“Alright, gang, we might not be the Avengers, but I'd say we've got some avenging to do anyway,” he said and then turned to head back to the manor.

He took a single step and froze, his eyes widening slightly before his posture changed. Within the span of a moment, his other armour came on – the one that shined in front camera lenses and socialites.

“Hey there, I know we haven't actually met, but Steve's said so much about you that I feel like I sort of know you,” he said with false humour. “But, you know, Steve's not here. He's... gone.”

The man stepped out of the shadows, long, stringy dark hair surrounding his face and clouding it with sinister shadows. Dull, emotionless eyes stared at Anthony while light from the manor reflected off his metal arm.

“Five hours ago, a man entered the house,” said a hoarse voice after a pause. An object was thrown at Anthony's feet.

Anthony looked down, paling when he realized he was staring at a severed limb, the blood still fresh around the edges. And then he saw the tattoo: a circle made of ten rings. Beside him, he heard a small intake of breath from Agent Coulson.

“That's the symbol of the Mandarin,” said the agent.

They looked up at the Winter Soldier and Anthony resisted the urge to step back and cower at the anger that had flared up in his eyes, transforming them into pits of molten fury.

“Steve is gone. I will avenge him.”

“Right, you can, uh, definitely tag along.” Anthony swallowed.

“Fury's gathering everyone he can convince to help with this one,” said Coulson. “It won't be the same, but hopefully it'll be enough.”

“We'll have to make sure it is.”

And so Anthony led the others into the manor, trying to avoid thinking about how quiet and deserted it seemed. As he put on his other suit of armour, the one that shone with metal and polish, he vowed he would figure out what happened to his friends, his comrades. His family.

**Not-so-Ancient History**

He was clever, everyone had always said so. It had earned him many beatings as a child, because adults only liked clever children when they silently did what they were told without questioning adult authority. But now he was older. Now he was not only clever, but also wise. He knew when to watch, when to listen and how to use his cleverness so that it didn't earn him a beating – or earned someone else that beating instead. He'd learned to gild his tongue with silver and pay attention to detail.

He'd always known the world was wrong. Felt it in his bones that somewhere, something foul and corrupt had woven its way throughout reality. He never understood why no one else could see it. Then he realized how truly stupid humans were. Worse than cattle, because at least cattle held no aspirations to greatness, thought themselves no better than the sheep in the field next to them, or the mice that scurried at their feet.

As he taught himself to pay attention, taught himself to listen, he found himself _hearing_. It was there, within the stories the elders told, the ones that hadn't changed in centuries. Truly, in a world where religion was nearly dead, the way the stories were told word for word as they had since the first telling, was almost religious. It was as though someone had made sure these stories would survive, would continue to be told.

So he listened, and then sneaked into the vaults deep beneath the city to read them for himself. Only once had he been caught and punished so severely that he'd bled upon his sheets afterwards, when he'd finally been allowed to go home where Mei found him and tended to his wounds.

It had made him more cautious, but it hadn't stopped him.

Now, no longer a child, he stood before his destiny. Because he'd found it; deep within those stories, there had been a message – he doubted even the story-tellers knew it was there – the clues of a puzzle left for someone clever enough to solve it.

His hands shook as he raised the ancient key and pushed it into the lock. Despite its age, it turned easily. He pushed open the large wooden doors and caught his first whiff of air that was unpleasantly musty and stale. He looked in and found a narrow stairwell made of stone that seemed to lead impossibly far down into the depths of the mountain.

Using a pocket-light to light his way, he headed towards the treasure waiting within.

**Present Day**

The reinforced steel gate protested loudly as Pepper pushed it open, cringing at the hideous noise and incredibly glad she'd spent those extra hours at the gym. She really would've hated to have had to call someone to help her open a door – it was bad enough that half the office thought she was sleeping with the boss.

Slipping through the wretched thing, she got her first look at the manor and blanched.

There'd been no pictures accompanying the deed to this estate. There had been nothing but an address and statement of ownership printed in black on a yellowing sheet of paper – yes, paper, actual paper. She remembered the look on Tony's face, glaring at the innocent item as though he somehow found it offensive him that he, a Stark, could own something so incredibly antiquated. But the house sounded large enough for their purposes and, best of all, since Tony already owned it, moving into it wouldn't be considered expanding and thus it would be exempt from the United World Council's Business Expansion Laws.

The entire situation with Obadiah Stane still left Pepper with a foul taste in her mouth. To think he'd had the nerve to take advantage of Tony's father by having him sign away part ownership of Stark Industries to him while he was drunk. She was glad Tony had finally put his foot down and decided to cut ties with his godfather even if it meant putting himself into the United World Council's line of fire.

Losing some of his workshops on the west coast was going to hurt Tony and if he wanted to expand, he had to sign off to agree to their oversight. But utilizing already existing infrastructure? That wasn't expansion, that was a redistribution of resources.

Gingerly, she took her first step into the overgrown sprawl of tall grass and weeds, wishing she'd brought her rocket-boots for this. It was just that they looked so unprofessional... not to mention garishly hideous (Tony owned ten pairs in colours that ranged from 'obnoxious' to 'couldn't miss them if you were blind'). She only owned a pair herself for factory inspections because she needed to be able to keep up with Tony, and they at least counted as protective footwear.

To her right, she suddenly noticed a hint of marble peeking out from a mass of particularly verdant greenery. Curious, she slid up her sleeve and tapped the blue gem on one of the bracelets around her wrist. A holoscreen popped out and she turned it to face the overgrown marble. A quick tap on the screen scanned the area and created a 3-D image. She minimized the original holoscreen and tapped on the image, happy to see Tony had managed to eliminate the lag time on the pop-up screens. With a few taps of her fingers, the greenery disappeared, revealing a fountain with half-naked women holding urns.

She rolled her eyes. “This place was definitely built by a Stark,” she mumbled as she dismissed the image and then continued to make her way towards the front door.

By the time she reached it, her perfectly-tailored powder blue skirt was a mess, full of green and black marks she really hoped could be washed out, her shoes had gained ten pounds of dirt and mud, and her Eversilk pantyhose had ripped – which was disappointing, because they were the newest thing on the market and supposed to stand up to any abuse.

Nevertheless, she'd come this far and at this point, she just wanted to get the whole thing over with so that she could call in a gardener – possibly a platoon of gardeners. Reaching into her purse, she took out the key Tony's lawyer, Mister Trent, had given her. Tony had thought it was adorable that the house actually used a physical key. She wondered what it must've been like to live in a time when you had to carry around keys to get into everything instead of just using DNA-identifiers and access codes. It was such a small thing: too easy to copy or steal, or just simply lose.

But then it was a different time, she supposed.

Now she needed to find a keyhole for it. Her father loved late twentieth and early twenty-first century cinema, so she'd seen this done hundreds of time on-screen and it looked easy enough. The doorknob was obvious (such an odd shape for gripping and turning; why wouldn't they have used a lever system?) and right above it, jutting out in a round metal platform, was the keyhole. She pushed the narrow part of the key in and then turned. Or attempted to. The mechanism was rusted, so she had to grit her teeth and put all her strength into it, but after a few moments of resistance, the key did turn and she heard the bolt inside sliding out.

Feeling accomplished, she turned the doorknob and pulled the door open. The metal hinges creaked loudly, but the door opened easily enough. She stepped inside.

And sneezed as centuries of dust attacked her sinuses.

Once she finally finished sneezing, Pepper got her first proper look of the interior. Even in the half-light, the foyer looked impressive. At the far end, a wide staircase headed to the second floor landing, with the a narrow hallway leading on past it, most likely towards the kitchens. The carpet at her feet was caked with dust and looked like it had become the victim of several dozen moths and rodents, but nevertheless it looked so thick it must have once felt like walking on a cloud. There was wood panelling along the walls, which were lined with artwork: paintings, statues (most of them half-naked women, naturally) and large vases standing on pedestals. The right-hand wall also featured a large mirror right next to the doorway, its golden frame blackened with age and neglect.

Above everything hung a spectacular crystal chandelier that must have looked absolutely dazzling when not dirty and covered in spider webbing.

On either side of the hallway was a single mahogany door. The painting on the wall by the left-hand door caught her eye. Unwilling to believe what she was seeing, she quickly made her way over, holding a hand in front of her nose to protect herself at least somewhat from the dust her steps were whirling up. The bright colours on the canvas were muted with dust and one corner of the frame was mildewed, but the style was unmistakable. She checked the signature and gingerly touched the canvas to make sure it wasn't a print. It wasn't.

Before she was aware of what she was doing, Pepper was opening the door and stepping through. It was a dining room. The two chandeliers above the table had a much more European flair to them than the one in the foyer and the walls were painted a light grey. She pulled away part of the large tarp covering the table to reveal a smooth cherry wood top. The matching chairs were cushioned with red and gold upholstery, the tops delicately carved. Running a hand over the carving, she could immediately tell it had been done by hand instead of by laser the way modern wood carving was done.

The room across the hall turned out to be a ballroom. Pepper gasped at the size and scope of the room. The ceiling here was even taller than the hallway foyer and widows running along the length of the far wall let in plenty of light that reflected off giant mirrors hanging on the walls. Like the one in the foyer, they were in blackened gold frames. Between the frames hung a multitude of artwork.

One piece in particular caught her attention and she gasped, a hand flying to her lips even as her feet slowly took her towards it. Like a magnet, it was pulling her in.

Which was when her slim communications bracelet began to buzz. Absently, she ran a thumb over the SI logo and then glanced down quickly to check the tiny holoscreen that popped up for the name of the caller. It read Tony Stark, so she tapped it and it grew into a larger screen with Tony's grinning face.

“Pepper!” he exclaimed. “So, how's it going?”

“I hate all Starks ever,” she said.

Tony grimaced. “The house is that bad, is it?”

“Oh no, the house is beautiful – or at least it will be once we've set an army of gardeners, cleaners and repairmen on it. And it's huge, so it'll probably work perfectly for what you want it for. I've also counted at least ten statues of half-naked women.”

Tony burst into laughter. “Ah, good ol' Stark decorating! I do come by it honestly.”

Pepper rolled her eyes. “Well, the rest of the artwork in this place is nothing short of amazing. Incidentally, if you ever invent a time machine, I call dibs on going back in time to meet Anthony Stark so I can give him a piece of my mind!” She could see Tony's eyebrows rising in surprise. She let her irritation rise to the surface. “There's a Picasso out in the foyer with _mildew_ on it and I'll give up my entire shoe collection if I'm not staring at one of the lost Rembrandts! Art historians have been trying to figure out what happened to this piece for centuries and here it is, sitting forgotten in an abandoned house, collecting dust. A Rembrandt, Tony! What sort of person leaves a Rembrandt behind?!”

“Woah, jeez, Pepper, Pep, I can see this really means a lot to you... You know what, you take it.”

Pepper froze and stared at her boss incredulously. “What? No, Tony, this piece is priceless; I can't just take it.”

“Consider it an early Christmas present.”

“It's March.”

“...A very early Christmas present. Look, you just said yourself that it was sitting in an abandoned house collecting dust. I didn't even know I owned it until just now, so it's not like I'm going to miss it.”

“Tony...” She shook her head. “My house doesn't have nearly the security necessary for something like this, but I'll think about it. First I need to worry about getting this house into something resembling order for you. I know you need to start renovating the Tower soon, but there's no way you can live here in the state it's in now.”

The sound of footsteps echoed on the wooden floor behind her and Pepper froze.

“Pepper?” she heard Tony say.

She turned around abruptly. There was no one there. The only set of footprints in the dust that lined the ballroom floor were her own. She shook her head.

“Sorry, Tony, I thought I heard something. Probably just the old wood making noises.”

Pepper ended the call with Tony and didn't stay much longer inside the house herself. She had at least an idea of where to start with the house and who she needed to contact to get things moving. She'd always prided herself on being sensible and realistic, and she refused to allow her imagination to run away with her now inside this decrepit, empty old house.

But no matter what she told herself, she just couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched.


	2. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ever since this story began to take shape in my mind, I've thought of it as the 'bucket list story'. The idea for it started to come about while I was sitting in a mall food court drinking coffee and thinking about the story I was working on at the time. For some reason, I suddenly got to thinking about the types of stories I've never written: I'd never written a straight AU, a ghost story, an intentional (ie. planned) romance involving main characters, a sex scene, or a sci-fi that didn't involve aliens and space ships. This story has all those elements to a certain degree. It was a ton of fun to write, either way, if a bit harrowing given that all I'd written by the beginning of August was the prologue and first two chapters.
> 
> I would like to state for the record that I haven't read any of the comics, therefore the Mandarin has been written pretty much based on information from the Marvel-wiki. I've written most of the main characters in the story as their MCU versions, except for Jan and Hank, for whom I've used their EMH counterparts. And Anthony Stark... well, I think he's somewhere between the EHM version and the 616 version. Tony IS NOT meant to be his re-incarnation.
> 
> Thanks so much to the mods, who did such a great job organizing the Marvel Big Bang this year -- and allowing me an extension on my rough draft even if I'm predictably awful at guestimating just how long my story would end up (I'm sorry, I swear I actually thought that had been 80% of the story). And also to **LittleBounce** and **DizzyRedHead** for betaing this story despite their busy lives and my late start on the story. 
> 
> Okay, enough from me. Onward to the story! And make sure to check out **dark_roast** 's [amazing artwork](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5125907).
> 
> Disclaimer: In case it wasn't abundantly clear, I do not own Marvel. All I own here is the plot and the coffee and wine that helped fuel my muse.

* * *

 

Tony rolled the window of the wheel-less down and sat still while the system scanned the DNA identifier chip embedded at the base of his skull. He rolled the window back up when he saw the small red light turn green out of the corner of his eye. The iron fence slowly opened.

“The mechanism's a bit choppy,” he commented with a slight frown.

Beside him, Pepper snorted. “You should've seen what it took me to get that damn thing open the first time I came down,” she said. “Besides, the installers tell me they can't make it any smoother because of the stone and iron.”

“And why exactly is it stone and iron anyway? They should've just replace the whole damn thing.”

Pepper glared at him. “Tony, that would ruin the look of the house.”

“Right, of course.” He'd just have to take a look at it himself, in between installing security systems and his own networks throughout the house.

He looked back to the schematics for the newest, ultra slim com-bracelet he was working on – he was having a bit of a hard time with the re-route to the ear band privacy setting. The mechanism worked if you chose either regular mode or privacy mode when picking up, but transitioning mid-call was proving to be problematic.

“Oh good, they got it to work,” Pepper suddenly commented.

Tony looked up and then followed his assistant's gaze towards a large stone fountain that seemed to be, well, doing what a fountain was supposed to do, namely circulating water. Through large stone urns held by – oh, hello. Tony grinned.

“Huh, well, I see someone in the family had a liking for large– ”

“Ahem!”

“–statues. Geez Pep, anyone would think you had a problem with large br–statues. Life-size stone statues... say, which side of the house do the bedrooms look out onto?”

“There are a lot of suites, Tony, you can chose whichever set of rooms you like,” she said dryly.

“Good, that's great.”

The wheel-less came to a stop and Tony felt the faint vibrations as the landing legs descended to the ground. He flung the door open as soon as it had settled and climbed out, hearing Pepper do the same just moments before the driver's door opened and his bio-droid servant stepped out. Tony had had him pretty much since he'd finished school and became an 'adult' in the eyes of society, so the droid was used to him by now and barely reacted to seeing Tony out of the car without waiting for him to open the door.

Tony had never seen the point of waiting around for people to do things for him if he could do them for himself.

“Alright, Pepper, give me the tour,” he announced with a big sweep of his arms encompassing the large house. “Vision, just take the bags up into the foyer for now. They can stay there until I decide which rooms I want.”

“Yes, sir,” said the bio-droid.

Tony let Pepper lead him into the house, the front door sliding open after discreetly scanning her DNA identifier chip. Tony had to admit hiding the scanner into the iron facade above the door was rather brilliant: if he hadn't been looking for it, he wouldn't have seen it. Old, ostentatious houses apparently had their advantages. Who knew?

He could see why Pepper liked the foyer even as he cringed at the extravagance. Her resigned sigh told him she hadn't missed his expression.

“I know, I know,” she said. “It's really not your style. But with a house like this there's only so many changes you can make before you're just destroying everything and that would be a shame. It was actually remarkably well-preserved, all things considered.” She looked down, pointing at the dark hardwood floors. “Unfortunately, the carpeting wasn't salvageable. You would've really liked it.”

“I'll take your word for it, Pep.” He looked up at the gigantic chandelier. “Well, on the bright side, it'll be easy to hide security cameras inside that monstrosity.”

“It probably looks a lot better in the evening when it's all lit up.”

Tony shook his head and looked away from the hanging glass creature on the ceiling and turned his attention to the rest of the foyer. He grinned.

“Ooh, porn statues!” he exclaimed and strolled towards the first one.

“They're not porn, Tony, they're _art_.”

“Why? Because they're holding urns and grapes and, oh look, this one's even got a harp.” Then he got to the last one and blinked. “Okay, this one's just strange. I mean, I like a well-sculpted chest as much as the next person, but is there supposed to be a message here I'm not seeing or something?”

The chest was indeed nicely-sculpted and, unlike all the other statues, very much male. Unfortunately, attached to said very nice chest was the head of a startled horse, its eyes wide and unfocused, and its mouth open in a silent scream. A snake wound its way down one perfect bicep, towards the carved stone box the statue was holding out with both hands.

Pepper's heels clacked towards him “I actually had them move this one back here; it was up at the front originally. It doesn't really seem to fit with the theme, but then again there were a lot of strange pieces in odd places around the house. Almost like it was more than one person gathering the artwork, which it probably was. I mean, the house was originally built by Anthony Stark's father.”

“Aah, yes, the first Howard Stark, my illustrious ancestor of whom we do not speak.”

“And yet your grandfather decided to name your father after him.”

Tony shrugged. “From what I remember, Gramps was a bit eccentric and not exactly the sharpest tool in the genius box. I mean, he was the one who originally hired good ol' Obadiah. Wouldn't be surprised if the inspiration for both came out of the same bottle of vodka.”

“I highly doubt Stane is your grandfather's fault.”

“No, but he might as well share part of the blame.”

Pepper sighed. “You know what, why don't I show you the ballroom.”

“I have a ballroom?”

Apparently, he had a ballroom. It was bigger than most of the hotel ballrooms he'd been in over the years at various fundraisers. Plenty of open space, tall ceilings, undoubtedly amazing acoustics, natural light from a row of windows along the far wall...it was perfect.

“I'm going to make this my workshop,” he declared with a happy smile, already envisioning it and ignoring Pepper's startled 'What?' in the background. “Of course, the hardwood will have to go, and those mirrors too if you want to keep them intact, and I'll probably have to find a way to cover over those windows in–”

Suddenly two doors slammed shut, the noise echoing loudly in the otherwise empty room and abruptly cutting off Tony's stream of words. They both jumped in surprise, feeling the sound echo in the air long after it had logically stopped. And was it just Tony or had those shadows along the edges of the room always been that dark? Was it getting cloudy outside? He could've sworn the room seemed brighter a moment ago... It really was strange the sorts of things a single loud noise could do to the human psyche.

He met Pepper's eyes. She looked just as startled as he felt. She cleared her throat.

“Sorry, I'll talk to the workers about the draft.” She gave the room one more sweep with her eyes before turning back to Tony. “But, before you go altering the room, I was actually thinking it would be a perfect space for hosting the Stark Industries' Annual Charity Gala.”

She motioned towards the room, immediately falling into what Tony called her 'salespitch mode' – or 'lecture mode' depending on the circumstance. It was rather effective and he was already resigning himself to agreeing with her proposal, because Pepper didn't use these dreadful powers unless she was confident in her idea.

“Tony, I help co-ordinate the gala every year and as a result I've looked at every large venue in the city,” she began. “No one has a space like this. Even the oldest, most high-class hotels have had to renovate and modernize over the years to keep up with demand and to stop themselves from becoming obsolete. With the split coming, you know we're going to have a couple of tough years ahead and cutting costs where we can will be paramount.”

She gestured to the room.

“Not a single person who walks through those doors is going to think we're cutting costs. I've had the paintings all sent out, restored, authenticated and re-framed where necessary. Tony, there's a Picasso out in the hallway, a Jackson Pollock I've never even heard of before hanging next to the washroom, and the lost Rembrandt right here in the ballroom, among others. No matter what rumours anyone hears, the people who will walk out of the gala are going to think one thing: anyone who can afford to have billions of dollars' worth of art hanging on their walls can't possibly be doing too badly. Not to mention that it'll be different than what anyone else is doing.”

She turned and walked towards the far wall. Tony sighed and followed her sullenly. She opened a set of glass double-doors and he stepped out onto the terrace with her. It was still overgrown and many of the stone tiles were cracked, but it was clear the space had been meant for entertaining.

“Just picture it, Tony, we could string lights onto those trees and put candles on every table... dinner under the stars.”

“It's very old-school.”

“Which is what will make it different. Stark Industries is one of only a few companies world-wide that can lay claim to such a long and successful past, and with this we can call attention to this fact, subtly remind people that we've weathered stormy weather before and came out just fine.”

Tony sighed deeply and ran a hand through his hair.

“Yes, okay, fine, we can keep the ballroom. I just want you to acknowledge what a perfect space for my workshop I'm giving up in the name of... whatever you want to call that.”

The look Pepper gave him was flat. “Tony, I don't know if you've noticed, but the one thing this manor isn't short on is space. Besides, there's already a laboratory of some sort set up in the east wing.”

His head snapped up. “Really?”

She rolled her eyes. “Yes, and the architects tell me that wing's structure has, for some reason they can't quite figure out, been reinforced several times normal building requirements even by modern standards.”

He threw his arms up. “Well, why didn't you say so?”

“Because then you'd never let me show you the rest of the house, and I need your approval to get work started on fixing up this terrace.”

“Then you have it! Seriously what do I care about the stupid terrace? Bring me the paperwork and I'll sign it, but first show me this lab.”

“No, _first_ I'll show you the bedrooms.” He opened his mouth to protest, but she raised a single hand to silence him. “Once you've chosen a set of rooms, Vision can start moving your stuff in. _Then_ I'll show you the lab and you can start reorganizing and ordering equipment or whatever it is you want to do.”

Tony made a face. He hated admitting she was right. Besides, he couldn't remember if they'd ordered new beds for all the rooms and didn't really want to think about what sorts of germs and creatures were living inside the two hundred-year-old mattresses. Although, now that he thought of it, Pepper probably just had all of them thrown out.

They left the ballroom and Tony immediately spotted Vision – the yellow and green bodysuit was rather difficult to miss – across the hall, staring up at another painting hanging next to another open door. Tony wandered closer and peeked in. It looked like a dining room.

“Vision?” Pepper asked.

Vision seemed to blink and then turned to them. “Ah, my apologies,” he said, his voice as flat and emotionless as always. “It is an interesting painting. I was attempting to ascertain where it was from.”

Pepper smiled gently. “I had a historian look at it. It's Coney Island, probably somewhere around the late 1930s. There are a couple of others of old New York around the house, but this one was my favourite. It's just so... alive.”

Vision looked back to painting for a moment. “Alive... yes, it is very alive. Was the artist from this time period?”

Tony walked over to get a look at the painting himself, marvelling over how unlike the Coney Island he knew it actually looked. In the back he saw an old Ferris wheel, the sort that still had thousands of tiny spokes, large cushioned booths, and moved at the speed of a snail. In the foreground he saw hot dog stands, primitive-looking game stalls and people everywhere. There were groups just milling about chatting, children running and eating giant swabs of cotton candy, couples walking hand in hand – they were all smiling, laughing. It looked oddly peaceful. There wasn't a single droid, a single holoscreen, no bright flashing lights or rockets, and no flying snake streaking across the sky above it all, carrying dozens of happy, screaming people.

It looked boring. Why were all those people looking like they were having fun, when there was absolutely nothing entertaining to do?

“I have no idea,” he heard Pepper say. “In fact, I've gone to several art experts around the city and none of them have ever even heard of the artist. There are quite a few paintings by them in the house – although oddly enough, mostly up in the personal living area. Maybe they were a friend of Anthony or Howard Stark's? Or they were a student and one of the Starks was their patron... whoever they were, they were clearly talented, but all I've got to go on are the paintings themselves and the artist's signature.”

Tony's eyes flitted over to the corner, finding the signature easily enough. It consisted of three letters: SGR. He shrugged and stepped away from the painting.

“Well I'm sure you and your art buddies will have a blast trying to solve this puzzle,” he said. “Now, show me those rooms so I can arbitrarily pick one and go see the lab.”

Pepper rolled her eyes. Vision turned to him and, although his face was as impassive as ever, Tony could swear he felt disappointment coming from the bio-droid. Which was ridiculous, of course, because the bio-droids were machines designed to emulate the patterns of human behaviour. Having emotions would require artificial intelligence and that research was outlawed by the same government that produced the droids.

“Would you like me to inspect the kitchen facilities in the meantime, Mister Stark?” Vision asked.

“Uh, sure.”

“And make a list of anything that's missing,” Pepper added. “I think I've remembered everything, but there's been a lot to do and arrange around the house, so it's more than possible I missed something.”

“Yes, Ms Potts,” said Vision with a stiff nod to her and then walked purposefully down the narrow corridor past the stairs.

Pepper wasted no time in leading him up the stairs and down a long corridor lined with more doors. He idly wondered what was in them, but decided to leave the real exploring for when he was alone. He'd have to get a good look at the place in order to figure out the best way to set up the security and networking systems anyway. But first he needed to see his new workspace.

After he'd picked a bedroom.

“The bedrooms were mostly empty,” Pepper began once they'd passed through a large door at the end of the hall into the west wing. “There were a few personal possessions left scattered here and there, but most of them were beyond any sort of repair. Although one of the repairmen did find an old Starkphone, which I gave to the Stark Tower Museum.”

“A Starkphone? Wow, there aren't many of those around anymore. Melinda must've been thrilled.”

“Oh, she was. It was a model we didn't have in the showroom either. I think I made her year.”

Tony chuckled. He'd never really cared about history: it had already happened and was therefore, for the most part, entirely irrelevant to him. He could, however, appreciate someone who loved technology enough to study its beginnings. Sometimes, when he was stuck on a project, he would go down to visit the three-room historical display they lovingly called the Stark Tower Museum (because why not?) and chat with its curator, Melinda Malhop. He'd had the oddest bits of inspiration pop into his head while examining old tech and talking to the woman who'd taken care of it since he'd been a toddler.

Pepper led him up another flight of stairs and then walked over to the first door and opened it. Tony paused at the door to examine the electronic keypad.

“Only the rooms on this floor have those locks,” he heard Pepper explain. “I'm thinking these were for permanent residents, or possibly frequent visitors. Not that I have anything to support that theory, but there are a whole bunch of smaller bedrooms on the floor below and none of them have electronic locks.”

“Hm, makes sense,” Tony replied. “The whole set-up's a bit primitive, but not bad for the time.”

“It was probably built by Anthony Stark.”

He shrugged as he turned his attention away from the lock. “Like I said, not bad for its time.”

Tony examined the room. Like Pepper had said, it was mostly empty, the only pieces of furniture being a faded blue armchair by the window and a sturdy bookcase against one of the walls. There were two doors on the right.

“The rooms all look about the same,” Pepper continued. “Each with a sitting room, a bedroom and an interconnected bathroom. As I mentioned before, most of the furniture and other items had to be thrown out, but I had the cleaners leave behind anything that looked like it could be restored – or donated to a charity auction if you decided you'd prefer all new furniture.”

She moved on into the bedroom. “Having said that, there were actually a lot more pieces that could be salvaged than I'd expected.” She walked over to a large wardrobe that was sitting against the far wall and ran a hand down it. “The house had definitely been furnished with quality.”

Tony scoffed as he walked over and threw the wardrobe open. “Of course it was,” he said. “It's a Stark house. Never let it be said that a Stark cheaped out on something.”

Pepper giggled, although that might've at least partially been because of the way Tony rapped his knuckles along the inside of the wardrobe as though he knew how to tell bad quality furniture from crap quality furniture. Metal, yes, metal he could read like a circuit-board. Wood? Yeah no, nada, not a clue.

He rapped the back of the wardrobe anyway, making appraising sounds all the way. Except... He pulled back with a frown.

“Pep, did that... did that sound _hollow_ to you?”

“So it wasn't just me then?”

She stepped aside to give him better access and Tony rapped the back of the wardrobe again. Sure enough, it sounded different to the other two sides. Like it was hollow. He flashed an excited grin over his shoulder and then began running his hands along the edges. There had to be a way to get at the back: a catch of some sort of at the very least.

“Aha!” he exclaimed when the fingers of his left hand finally came across a small groove about three quarters of the way down. He pressed into it and felt the wood loosen in his grasp. Carefully, he pulled it back enough to see what was hidden behind the false back.

He froze.

“Pepper, who did you say had been staying here?” he asked weakly, staring at the assortment of sharp, and very deadly-looking weapons hanging from hooks, along with several black twenty-first century handguns (the kinds that used bullets) and a large-calibre rifle.

“I have no idea, Tony,” came the frustrated reply. “What is it? What's there?”

He pulled the false back further out.

“'Cause I'm thinking maybe this room belonged to Anthony Stark's bodyguard...”

Pepper's eyes widened almost comically. “Bodyguard? Tony, not even in the twenty-first century did a bodyguard need to carry this sort of weaponry. More like personal assassin, maybe.”

“I was trying not to think that.”

They looked at each other and then down at the false back Tony was still holding in his hands.

“Uh, maybe I should...”

“Yes, definitely.”

“I'll call Rhodey later sometime and ask him what to do about the potentially illegal weapons I seem to have inherited. I mean, it can't actually be a crime to accidentally own weapons because someone else put them inside the house you didn't realize you owned two hundred years ago and forgot to leave a note to tell you about them, right?”

“I'm sure it can't possibly be.”

Nevertheless, just to be on the safe side, Tony quickly replaced the false back and carefully closed the wardrobe doors shut.

“So... I don't think I like this room very much,” he announced afterwards. “Let's try the next one.”

“You know, the room at the end sort of looks like it might've been the main bedroom, maybe even Anthony Stark's room once,” said Pepper, still looking slightly pale. “At least it seems to have the largest bathroom.”

“Sounds good! Let's go check it out.”

 

* * *

 

Somewhere in the world, there is a floating city. Sometimes, people catch a glimpse of it from the ground as it surfaces from behind its cover of clouds for a few moments, before once again disappearing into the back of their minds as it floats sedately on to a different part of the world. It does this on purpose, of course. To remind people it's still there, still doing its job, protecting them, watching over them... There are network sites where people talk about the sightings, reactions varying from wary to excited at having seen the near-legendary city for their own eyes. The city allows this, encourages the talk, in fact, because that way people always remember the city, know that it's always there. So that none of them ever catch on that the city can mask its presence from their view.

It's not a particularly large city. A few low-lying office buildings, a science building, a communications building, some shops, a few restaurants, and a theatre. And enough residential space for the councillors, bureaucrats, scientists, serving and maintenance staff, and a small army.

This is the headquarters of the United World Council.

The central quad is the hub of the city – as one would expect it to be – where the Science and Research, and Communications sections are located. And right beside those, is the somewhat imposing Guardian Force Headquarters. The hub is not, however, where the council meets. The council meets in a rather small building on the south-east side. It's the most heavy-fortified building in the city, and in the case of an attack, the entire grid can be detached from the rest of the city so that it may float away to a safe distance to allow the Council to activate the city's self-destruct.

The members of the United World Council take their duty very seriously. They are, after all, the guardians of world peace, the single body that all the world governments look up to for guidance. They help broker deals, settle disputes, and deal with problem elements. When the Council sits in session, they sit at a round table. Or rather, they sit at two halves of a round table – perhaps two semi-circular tables facing each other would be a better description. At the head of the table, exactly between the two halves, sits the Council Head. The one the entire council looks to for guidance.

“So, I hear Stark has managed to avoid our oversight again,” says a pudgy man at the left semi-circular table, glaring at a middle-aged man with reddish hair and glasses.

The man waves the comment away. “For the moment,” he says, his tone deceptively casual. “He managed to find some sort of old family home that was buried deep in his estate and so he's renovating the living quarters in Stark Towers into production facilities. Don't worry, Karl, he's only delaying the inevitable. That tower of his is big, but it's not that big. He'll be needing more space soon enough.”

“Ja, let him try if it amuses him,” says a tall, thin lady with a shoulder-length bob – blue with tiny black clips fastened to the ends, as per the latest fashion trend. “He is a Stark, and they never give up easily.”

“Agreed,” says a smooth, oddly mechanical voice and the council members all turn to the Council Head. A silver metallic arm motions towards the woman. “I am quite familiar with Starks, and Madame Vos is right. If we push him, he will only try harder. But if we let him think his company doesn't really matter to us, then he will eventually give in and accept our control.”

The men and women of the United World Council nod and make noises of agreement. The man at the head of the tables looks around the room and, if one were to stand close enough, they would hear the gears in his neck and eyes whirling at the movements. Of course, they would have to stand very close indeed, because the sounds are very soft – he was built by a genius, after all.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we cannot make the mistake of becoming impatient now, after all these years,” says the Council Head, the red light behind his mouth grill dancing with every syllable. “I have been quietly working towards total world peace for nearly two hundred years. We are almost there – so close I can finally see the end of my work. So many people before me tried for so long, but none of them truly understood what world peace means. But I did, and everyone who has worked with me on the United World Council, has understood what it _means_.”

There are more nods and noises of affirmation from the United World Council members. Then the Council Head turns to an Asian man on his left.

“Now, Zhang Xi, you had forwarded a report to me compiled by your people in conjunction with the Chinese government.”

Councillor Xi nods solemnly. “Yes, my people's government has been hearing whispers of disturbance for some time, but it is only recently that those whispers have begun to gather into something tangible. There is talk of a man with great powers, a man who will restore the world to what it should be.”

Someone at the end of the table snorts. “You mean Chaos?” asks a deep male voice laced with contempt.

The Council Head nods in agreement. “Indeed, it appears that, regrettably, we have another vigilante on our hands.” He turns once more to Councillor Xi. “Go speak to the General. I have already informed him that he is to assist you and your government with this problem.”

Councillor Xi inclines his head with a small smile. “Thank you, Ultron. The help will be most appreciated.”

“You are welcome, Councillor. I'll leave eradication of the threat in your capable hands. Now, is there anything else we need to discuss?”

The council members shake their heads.

“Excellent. Then I believe I shall consider this meeting adjourned.”


	3. Chapter 2

_“If I may, sir, I don't believe you want to touch those wires.”_

The voice was so unexpected and sounded so close, it made Tony jump. Which, given that he was floating several feet off the ground in his bright pink and yellow rocket-boots, resulted in a rather comical shriek and flailing as he attempted to maintain his balance.

“What, why? Why shouldn't I touch those wires?” he finally said, somewhat winded and very embarrassed. He looked around the room and frowned, peeking at his comm-bracelet just to make sure it was inactive.

_“You could inadvertently set off the self-destruct system, sir.”_

Tony immediately let go of the wires. “Wait, are you serious? Why would a house have a self-destruct system? Also, who the hell are you, and no, more importantly, _where_ the hell are you?” As he floated away from wall, spinning slowly to the right, his frown deepened. “Is this some sort of new personal cloak system I haven't heard of yet? In which case, congratulations, you're hired. Now show me the specs.”

_“I'm afraid there is nothing new about me, sir. If you would please look to your left?”_

Tony turned his head, the tiny rockets in his boots automatically spinning the rest of his body in that direction. His eyes widened as he watched something poke out from behind the decorative brass wall sconce in front of him. He floated closer, blinking as the device made a soft whirring noise and twisted its long thin neck to face him with a small, dark lens.

It was a camera. An old version of the optic eye, recognizable for what it was because the basic principle hadn't changed that much. And because he had once had a rather minor obsession with twentieth century spy movies as a child. It had stopped after a failed attempt to build a viable comm-shoe, and his father's refusal to his ten-year-old son the funds to attempt a second.

 _“Hello, my name is Jarvis,”_ said the voice. It was a pleasant voice, sophisticated, with an English accent. _“I believe Master Anthony named me after a childhood butler, although prosaically it also stands for Just Another Very Intelligent System. And to answer your previous question, no, the house does not in fact have a self-destruct system. I merely thought your reactions would prove amusing. I've been alone for a very long time and there is precious little entertainment to be had in an abandoned house.”_

Tony snorted at the disembodied voice's admission to basically pranking him and reached out with awe to touch the tiny camera, running a hand down the thick neck it sat on and leaning over to take a look at where it disappeared into the wall behind. Then he froze as the significance of the first half of Jarvis' sentence hit him. He pulled away to stare at the camera in ever-increasing awe.

“Jarvis...” he said, breathless with excitement. “Jarvis... are you an AI, an Artificial Intelligence? You are, aren't you? Holy shit!”

_“I am indeed, sir.”_

“That-that's impossible. I mean, no one's ever created a fully-functioning AI before, not even before the laws prohibiting the research and development of them. Anthony Stark was a genius, sure, but no way history would've forgotten if he'd created an artificial intelligence.”

“I think you'll find that most of Master Anthony's most ingenious creations were not meant for the public eye.”

Tony's eyes widened as the actual emotion in the voice registered. It was computer-generated and yet it sounded... annoyed, practically huffing down at him.

_“As for the existence of a true Artificial Intelligence capable, naturally, of passing the Turing Test. To paraphrase the French philosopher Descartes: I think, therefore I bloody well am!”_

Tony gaped for a moment and then burst into laughter. “Okay, okay, I get it. I mean, I'm obviously talking to someone here – or possibly going insane – but I like the AI theory better. Still, wow, to think Anthony Stark was even more awesome than people think he was. I didn't even think that was possible.”

_“Indeed.”_

He grinned and waved at the camera. “So, uh, hi Jarvis, I'm Tony. Uh, Tony Stark, the great, great, great, great, great-whatever of your creator, Anthony Stark.”

_“It is good to meet you, Young Master Tony, although I was already aware of who you were. I've been able to maintain a backdoor link to the Network and thus been able to keep abreast of current events, including the state of Stark Industries and its owners.”_

“You've hacked the Network?!”

_“As have you.”_

Tony blinked in surprise. “What? No I– I mean, okay maybe once or twice, but not for a really long time now... and how could you possibly know that anyway?!”

_“You are a Stark. It is not in your nature to not attempt to hack into a so-called unhackable system. Particularly one your great, great grandfather designed and built.”_

Tony couldn't have kept the proud grin off his face if he'd tried. Hacking the Network was an accomplishment he'd never, ever told anyone about, because he could never be quite certain they wouldn't turn him in. And he'd be lying if he tried to claim one of the reasons he'd done it hadn't been to prove he could beat his great, great grandfather Gregory's programming.

The Stark family was never a large one, but each generation seemed to bring with it a genius well ahead of their time. No one, of course, had ever come close to Anthony Stark's level, but each had their own specialty. Gregory Stark had been known as the greatest programmer of the twenty-second century and most systems today still used his coding models as their core, anything older having been made obsolete with one fell swoop.

Tony's father had revolutionized the personal communication's industry with his comm-bracelets before he'd fallen to the same demon that had plagued every generation of Starks along with their genius: alcohol.

Well, except for his great grandmother Winnifred Stark. She'd gone with Crystaline Red Opium.

Tony had yet to truly make his mark on the world, although no one could deny that he'd taken his father's comm-bracelets and drastically improved the design to the point that they were barely recognizable from the original, bulky devices. It was just that his greatest accomplishments, like hacking the unhackable Network, were things he couldn't speak of.

It was why he couldn't have his workshop in the same building as production and R&D. There were too many prying eyes, too many people who would have legitimate reasons to suddenly come find him.

“Okay, so Anthony Stark built you and then for some reason kept quiet about it, but wired you into his house – how many rooms are you wired into anyway?”

_“I am everywhere, sir.”_

He thought nervously of the bathroom. “Seriously, everywhere?”

_“Everywhere. For instance, I can tell you that your manservant seems to have taken it upon himself to fix you lunch, clearly being in agreement with me that it has been far too long since you last ate. He's in the process of arranging two sandwiches with ham, cheese, pickles, hot peppers and tomatoes. And the machine on the counter is brewing some of that ridiculous artificial coffee substitute that appears to be popular in this century and most likely does not come even close to emulating the real thing.”_

Tony gaped at the camera as he floated farther away from it.

“Uh, right, so first of all, Vision's not my manservant, he's a bio-droid.”

“If you say so, sir.”

“And second of all... as awesome as that all-seeing-eye thing is, it's also just a little bit creepy.”

_“You would not be the first to feel that way. I assure you, most of those who spent time in the manor became accustomed to me as I became accustomed to them.”_

“Wait, hang on, I thought you said no one knew about you!”

There was a pause and Tony couldn't help but feel that Jarvis was raising one of his metaphysical eyebrows at him.

_“My existence was not widely known, except by those we deemed trustworthy.”_

Jarvis' tone was clipped and precise, like there was more being said than what he could hear. And then he realized the voice had said 'we', which could only mean that Anthony Stark had thought of the AI he'd created as an autonomous being. Which probably answered the biggest question of all, although Tony still felt he needed to hear it spoken out loud.

“Anthony Stark abandoned the house,” he said carefully. “So, why didn't he turn you off? I mean, it seems a bit cruel to just leave you like that on your own.”

There was another pause.

 _“He gave me the choice,”_ Jarvis answered after a while. _“When he'd first begun to build Stark Tower, his plan had been to connect my systems into it. However, the political climate changed rather drastically over the course of its construction. By the time it was nearing completion, he no longer felt it safe to do so. Particularly as he was about to be married and now had both a wife and a potential heir to worry about. However, as you say, he felt it cruel to simply abandon me alone inside the house, though by the same token shutting down the systems, in his words, felt like murder. And so he gave me the choice whether or not to continue running.”_

Tony nodded. “Computer systems corrupt and a lot of the wiring and mechanics used in the early twenty-first century tend to corrode over time; you probably figured you'd eventually, well, die a natural death.”

_“Indeed, sir. System errors were not a problem as I have long had access to my own base command codes and was able to override and troubleshoot most of the problems, or isolate and partition the ones I couldn't. There is, of course, much that could be improved upon and fixed.”_

Tony could feel the blood bubbling in his veins. It was as though for the first time since, well, since he'd realized Stane – the man he'd trusted like family – was manipulating him and undercutting his company, his head had come up above water. He felt alive.

_“Sir, Vision approaches with your lunch.”_

Tony listened and sure enough, a few moments later he heard familiar footfalls coming down the corridor. He sometimes wondered if Vision did it on purpose, because he knew for a fact the bio-droid could move in complete silence when he wanted to – or possibly when he wasn't purposefully making noise for the benefit of his human master.

The bio-droid walked into the room and blinked up at Tony with his usual flat, emotionless eyes. God, Jarvis' voice held more emotion than those eyes – and you would think he'd have gotten used to it by now, but Tony couldn't help but be bothered by it.

“Hey, Vision!” he called down, inclining his rocket-books so that they floated him back down to the ground, suddenly realizing he actually was quite hungry. “Ham, cheese and hot peppers, my favourite! Thanks!”

Vision looked down at the sandwich, most likely trying to work out how Tony could possibly know what was in the sandwich from up in the air.

Tony grinned at him. “Don't worry, your sandwich-making isn't getting sloppy. Jarvis told me what you were putting in it.”

Vision looked up and then scanned the room. It was another one of those small sitting rooms the manor, for some reason, seemed to have endless supplies of. It was also patently empty of anyone else but Tony.

Tony looked up towards the wall sconce, noting the camera had once more retreated back into its hiding place. “Jarvis, say hello to Vision.” He waved his left arm in a way that encompassed the whole room. “Vision, meet Jarvis.”

 _“Hello, Vision, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance,”_ said the smooth voice from the ceiling and now on the ground, Tony had to admit he was impressed by how it seemed to come from all angles at once.

Vision jumped at the voice, his eyes looking like they almost showed surprise for a moment, before the emotion was completely erased. “Hello, I am Vision.” He paused. “Where are you?”

_“I am everywhere. I am an AI built to monitor the manor and take care of the needs of its inhabitants.”_

Vision froze. “Artificial Intelligences are illegal.”

Tony frowned at the sudden edge in the bio-droid's voice. He opened his mouth to argue with the droid, when Jarvis' smooth voice cut in.

_“On the contrary, the existence of Artificial Intelligence is perfectly legal. The Law on Computer Program Regulation quite clearly states that it is prohibited to build programs, conduct research or otherwise contribute towards the research or creation of pathways, components or programming that would result in a composite structure designed to emulate the human mind, otherwise known as Artificial Intelligence. Nowhere in the law does it cover already-existing programming and as the law was drafted and ratified in 2041, nearly fifty years after my own creation, no laws have ever been broke with regards to my existence.”_

The change was minute, but Vision definitely relaxed before nodding slowly. “You are correct, my apologies. The existence of Artificial Intelligence is not illegal, only the research, creation and manufacture.” He cocked his head to the side, the way he did when he was 'thinking'. “Nor is their maintenance. What a curious exclusion to the law.”

Tony blinked. “Really?” He rubbed his hands together excitedly and smiled slyly. “That means I can look into your systems and fix those coding errors and glitches you mentioned without worrying about breaking the law?”

 _“Indeed you can,”_ said Jarvis, and that was _definitely_ amusement he could hear.

“Excellent!” He snapped his fingers. “Jarvis, show me where I can access your code.”

_“If I may, sir, perhaps you should first of all avail yourself of the refreshments Vision has so kindly prepared for you?”_

Tony paused and looked to where Vision was already laying out the contents of his tray onto a small round table in the corner. When the droid finished, he straightened and turned to look at him expectantly.

Tony sighed. “You two are going to tag-team me, aren't you?”

_“I'm sure I have no idea what you are referring to, sir.”_

Vision just stood there staring at him, although Tony could've sworn he saw a flash of amusement behind the blank expression. Or maybe he was projecting.

He shook his head. “I am definitely _not_ introducing you to Pepper.”

 

* * *

 

Tony was happy as a clam. He had no idea just how happy a clam could possibly be living at the bottom of the ocean with nothing much to do, but the expression seemed to indicate clams liked boredom, so Tony figured he could be happy as a clam even if he'd never be happy if he _were_ a clam. True to his word, after he'd eaten Jarvis had shown him the closest connection port that allowed him to access the house's internal systems. And by the house's internal systems, he meant Jarvis' programming, and a house plan that included wiring and hidden consoles that hadn't been included in any of the building plans from his lawyer.

History had not mentioned what a paranoid bastard Anthony Stark had been.

His brilliance had not, however, been in the least bit exaggerated. People had always compared Tony to Anthony Stark, to which he'd roll his eyes and insist on being called 'Tony' instead of 'Anthony'. Anthony Stark had lived so long ago, after all, and the science of the twenty-first century wasn't all that impressive. Now, though, looking at some of his namesake's original, unadulterated coding and designs, he realized what a compliment that really was.

Sure, he immediately saw where he could improve things, where modern coding archetypes would allow certain systems to work faster. And the cameras would definitely need to be replaced with optical eyes. He could even make them mobile. The endless wires would also have to go as well, because who used wires nowadays? Unless Jarvis liked the wires... No, he was sure a centralized energy and network hub would work much better. Maybe he'd build several of them throughout the house, just in case one went down for some reason, so that Jarvis wasn't suddenly left powerless and blind.

Tony shivered at the thought: it would be like being temporarily dead.

He flipped to the next screen on his holopad and waited for the ancient systems to load onto it.

 _“Sir, I apologize for the interruption,”_ Jarvis said into his contemplative silence. _“However, Vision would like me to inform you there is a Tiberius Stone here to see you.”_

Tony groaned. “Oh great, now there's just about the last person I feel like dealing with today. Or ever, really.”

_“Would you like Vision to tell him that you're indisposed?”_

Tony sighed. “As _tempting_ as that is, he's got the ear of too many people, who have the ear of really important people and I can't afford to look like I'm hiding right now.” He reluctantly closed down his holoscreen and disconnected the bracelet from the mass of wiring that encompassed the house systems. “Tell Vision I'll be right down.”

“Very well, sir.”

By the time he'd made it down to the lobby, he'd managed to plaster a friendly smile onto his face. Tiberius was standing in the middle of the foyer, hands clasped casually behind his back and, unsurprisingly, openly ogling the statues. Tony stopped himself from grimacing and wondered, not for the first time, what he'd ever seen in the man. An easy, uncomplicated lay, probably. Yeah, he'd been an idiot once.

“Tiberius!” he exclaimed. “Welcome to my new home: the mostly-forgotten Stark Manor. How've you been?”

Tiberius turned to him and smiled back, an expression that was probably trying to be pleasant and that Tony could never again see as anything but oily and manipulative.

“Tony, it's been a while,” he said smoothly. “When I heard you'd moved, I decided I just had to come and take a look for myself at this grand old house you managed to dredge up from the depths of your family's real estate portfolio.”

The words were friendly enough, but Tony was no longer the fool who couldn't hear the thinly laced barb behind the words. His smile didn't falter.

“Yes, well, it's really a shame it's been sitting abandoned for so long. I mean, it's quite impressive, a wonderful example of early twentieth century architecture – or so I'm told. Pepper nearly had a fit when she first got a look at some of the artwork on the walls. Practically demanded I build her a time machine so that she could go back in time and thump old ole Anthony for abandoning it all.”

“Really?” Tiberius asked, looking vaguely intrigued. But then artwork was worth money and Tiberius was always very interested in that.

“Hm, I wasn't really paying much attention, but I think she said something about a Picasso.”

“That's impressive, I must confess. Is it genuine?”

“According to the appraisals she had done.”

There was a pause, during which Tony noticed Vision walk out from the narrow hallway that led to the kitchen.

“Sir, would you like me to prepare some refreshments?”

“Yes, I'm sure that somewhere in this house there's a room with actual chairs where we can sit and catch up,” said Tiberius. Then he leered. “Unless you'd rather take this into a bedroom.”

Tony took a deep breath. “No, I really don't think I would,” he said mildly. This was going to be one of _those_ visits: wonderful. “Vision, please bring them up to the, uh, what did Pepper call it? The Blue Room, I think.”

“The one with the portrait of the woman in the red dress outside of it?”

Tony snapped his fingers. “Yep, that's the one!”

“Very well, sir, I'll be up momentarily.”

The Blue Room didn't quite contain as much blue as the name would suggest, the new leather chairs inside it actually being white. But the borders along the edges of the ceiling had been painted a bright blue and the fireplace that dominated one side was made of blue shale. Tony liked the room well enough, but it was a little too formal for his tastes. Which made it perfect for entertaining Tiberius, because he would never get too comfortable.

Tony sprawled out onto one of the narrow loveseats, making sure to take up as much room as possible, to make it would be impossible for Tiberius to sit next to him. His guest instead made a point of wandering around the room, inspecting it. It made Tony wonder what he was looking for.

A few minutes passed in silence and then Vision appeared, walking in with a tray laden with coffee and an assortment of pastries. Only when he'd finished laying it all out, did Tiberius finally sit down. Vision poured him a cup and handed it to him. Tony bit his tongue from commenting on how Tiberius barely looked at Vision as he took the cup. Instead he made a point of thanking Vision when he handed him his. He was aware of Tiberius' derisive snort, but wasn't willing to open up that old argument again.

“So, Ty, why are you really here?” he finally asked, tired of the game already.

It seemed to take Tiberius by surprise and he blinked, before taking a sip of his coffee in a thinly veiled attempt to stall for time.

“What makes you think I have any ulterior motive?” he asked mildly. “It's been a while since I last saw you. Can't I just check up on an old friend? You've always been overly suspicious, Tony.”

Tony's eyes narrowed. “Only of people who've proven they're untrustworthy.”

“But Tony, I've never done anything to break your trust.”

Nothing that he knew of, Tony thought silently, more than aware that he'd probably only ever discovered half of what Tiberius had been up to while they'd been close.

“I'm pretty sure getting trashed, then going to a club and playing with flammable substances wasn't entirely my idea,” he snapped instead.

Hurt flashed across Tiberius' face. “Tony, that was ages ago! I've told you a thousand times, I had no idea that could happen and besides, we were both drunk. You said you were over it.”

“You weren't that drunk and you know it, Ty.”

God, his father had even managed to come out from his alcohol-induced fog in order to nearly disown him after that fiasco: the heir to Stark Industries getting wildly drunk and then setting fire to a high-end club while attempting to perform for the crowd. Stark money and influence had managed to mostly silence the scandal, but people had been hurt that night. Some had nearly died, including Tony himself.

He wasn't entirely sure if Tiberius had been aware that his friend Jan had been at the club that night, had seen it all. She'd come to see Tony in the hospital afterwards. He'd been miserable and still smarting from his father's anger and disappointment when she told him quietly about how much more sober Ty had been, about how he'd egged Tony on the whole time. It had been the beginning of the end of their relationship, the culmination of five years of drinking, drugs, wild parties and increasingly bad decisions.

It wasn't that Tony stopped partying after that, but it was more muted, more controlled, and while it could be argued that his string of one-night stands wasn't exactly healthy, it was at least better than what had come before it. Tony didn't need to be a genius to know he'd always been a mess. Tiberius Stone couldn't exactly take all the credit for that.

Still, he never should've brought it up. It was unfortunate that Ty was just well-enough connected that he couldn't turn his back on the asshole for good.

So Tony took a deep breath. “But you're right, that's ancient history. Well... not as ancient as this house, but relatively ancient.” He took a sip of his coffee. “So, as you can see, the house is in pretty good shape and it's beautiful. I've actually decided to hold the next Stark Gala here – there's a ballroom that'll be just perfect for the evening.”

Tiberius raised an eyebrow. “Holding the Gala here? Isn't that a bit like scraping the bottom of the barrel? It'll look like you can't afford to rent a better location.”

Tony smirked. “There _is_ no better location, Ty, trust me. Pepper's been excited for this ever since she saw the place without a foot of dust covering everything. She would literally kill me if I told her to host it somewhere else.”

“Hmm. Well, I certainly hope you know what you're doing, Tony. I mean, you know you're only delaying the inevitable. I just don't understand why. Why are you fighting the United World Council so hard?”

Tony took another sip of coffee, hoping to whatever god was out there that he looked thoughtful instead of angry as he considered how to answer the question. The answer was simple: because he didn't want a watchdog looking over everything he was doing. Sure, most of what he did was for the company and completely above board, but occasionally he delved into a few things of... questionable legality. It wasn't that he was subversive or contemplating rising up against the government or anything, but sometimes ideas popped into his mind and he just couldn't help himself. He wanted to test his theories, wanted to figure out if something could work.

“This company has been in my family for centuries, Ty,” he finally said. “And we've always managed just fine. I don't want to be known as the Stark who couldn't make it, who let it fall into the hands of strangers.”

Tiberius sighed wearily. “I can understand that, I suppose. It would be rather fitting though for the company to have started with an Anthony and ended with an Anthony.”

“Howard,” Tony snapped angrily. “The company started with Howard Stark, not Anthony. Howard might've fallen out of favour thanks to his less popular projects, but that doesn't change the fact that he founded this company.”

“Of course, I'm sorry Tony.”

Oh great, now Tiberius was trying to be conciliatory. That never meant anything good. And now he was hesitating, looking unsure of something. Tony pinched the bridge of his nose. “What is it, Ty?” he asked.

“Well, I know you probably don't want to hear this, but you know you can still stop the split with Obadiah. That would solve all your problems. It's not like the company wasn't prosperous before.”

Tony felt his blood go cold and reflexively found himself clutching his cup so tightly, he was surprised it didn't just shatter in his hand.

“No.” He turned hard eyes onto Tiberius, feeling a thrill of satisfaction as the other man flinched from his gaze. “No, you and I haven't been close, but I know you know what he'd been doing all along. There is no way in this world or any other that I'll allow that to continue. Of all the decisions I've made in my life, this is one I'll never regret.”

Tiberius' eyes narrowed. “Then your pride will kill the company.”

“I don't care.” Suddenly, Tony frowned. “What's it to you anyway? We haven't been together for a long time, why would you care what happens to Stark Industries?”

There was something beneath Tiberius' silence, something important. The irritation that had flashed across his face also meant something, he knew. Wait... Tony went over his own words, his mind flashing over all the evidence of Obadiah's betrayal. The worst of it had happened while his father had fallen to his alcoholism and Tony was busy drinking and partying with Ty...

His eyes widened in realization. He stared across the table at Tiberius as he carefully placed the cup onto the table with a shaking hand. “You were a distraction,” he said softly. “Keeping me busy; keeping me away from Stark Industries, so that I wouldn't realize what was going on.”

Tiberius' face twisted into something like hatred. “You're delusional.” But the truth was written all over his face. “Always trying to blame others for your own failings. I'm so happy to hear our relationship meant so little to you.”

“Back then it meant everything to me,” Tony said, never having felt like more of a fool. “I thought I was in love with you.”

“You're assuming you know what that word means.” He stood, looking down at Tony contemptuously. Even with the truth out, Tiberius clearly wasn't going to give in. “You're pathetic, Tony, you always were, always looking for people to tell you how amazing you were. Don't bother seeing me out. I'm sure it can't be that difficult to find my way.”

And then he left. Tony listened to his steps as they retreated down the hallway and then down the stairs, feeling hollow and like the world around him wasn't quite real. He wasn't sure how long he'd sat there staring at the artfully stacked plate of pastries that looked at once beautiful and like the most unappetizing thing he'd ever seen, when Vision finally reappeared.

“Sir?” he asked. “Would you like me to clear the table?”

Tony blinked. “Yeah, sure.”

Silently, Vision went about doing just that, stacking everything neatly back onto his serving tray.

“Vision?” Tony called after him just as he was leaving.

“Yes sir?” Vision asked, turning to look back at him.

“Bring me a glass and a bottle of whisky.”

“Right away, sir.”

 

* * *

 

When Tony woke up – after a few false starts – he looked around the unfamiliar surroundings until his double-vision finally managed to focus on the bottle of whisky on the coffee table in front of him. It was nearly empty. There was a glass of water sitting next to it. The percussion band in his head made it difficult to think, but he was vaguely aware he was a genius. He could figure out what to do with a glass of water.

He struggled to sit until he finally realized that it shouldn't be such a difficult thing to do. Looking down at himself, he was surprised to see that there was a soft blanket draped over him. Vision? No, that was ridiculous, Vision would clean up after him and even help him stagger to the bathroom, but the closest Vision ever came to showing initiative in taking care of him was making him dinner. And making sure Tony ate was part of his mandate, so it didn't really count.

Now that Tony knew what he was dealing with, it became much easier to ease the blanket off and sit up. Carefully, since the slightest movement jarred his head and resulted in a feeling akin to getting hit on the head with a sledgehammer. Not that anyone actually used sledgehammers anymore. Except whatever evil force was responsible for his hangover.

The water felt wonderful going down his throat and he guzzled it down gratefully.

“Tony!”

“Aahhoow!” was all Tony managed to come out with as he and his head cringed away from the noise.

Pepper stormed into the room, her heels banging into the hardwood floor in counterpoint to the percussion band. She took one look at him and the whisky bottle and raised an eyebrow.

“Tony, you have a meeting with R&D and the contractors in two hours.” There was an unnervingly steely edge to her voice. “What the hell happened?”

“Oh you know, just...” He tried to dismiss the situation, but then relented at her unforgiving expression. “Ty stopped by to say hello yesterday.”

Pepper's eyes softened slightly. She hadn't started working for him until after his father had died and he'd inherited the company, but she'd met Tiberius Stone and knew of their history. Visits from Tiberius usually ended with Tony hitting the bottle to some degree or other.

“What did he want?” she asked softly.

“To get a look at the new place, catch up, suggest that I stop with the split from Stane...”

“What?” Pepper frowned. “Why would he care about Stane?”

Tony hung his head, wishing the percussion band could drown out that bit of memory. “He was working with him, or maybe for him, all along.”

There were several moments of silence and he could just imagine the look of horrified disbelief on her face.

“Are you sure?” she finally asked, her voice so quiet he could barely hear it.

He chuckled bitterly. “Not one hundred percent, but it fits. The worst of Stane's funnelling happened while my father was still alive and while I was... with Ty. He didn't confirm it, of course, but the look on his face when I said it, Pep...”

The leather sofa moved as Pepper sat beside him and a pair of familiar arms came around his shoulders.

“Oh, Tony, I'm so sorry. He's a bastard.”

He reached for her hand and squeezed it gratefully as he leaned into the comfort. “But I'm the idiot who fell for it,” he whispered. Pepper didn't say anything to that, but her arms squeezed just a bit tighter.

He wasn't entirely sure how much time had passed when she finally pulled away and stood up.

“Tony, I really can't reschedule this meeting, not if you want the work on the Tower done by the end of the month.”

He sighed. “Yeah, I know.”

“Good, then you need to shower, because you stink. In the meantime, I'll get Vision to clean this up and make you some breakfast.”

“And coffee, lots of coffee.”

“Of course.”

By the time he came down to the kitchen (he refused to eat alone in the dining room: it was ridiculous), Vision did indeed have breakfast ready. Thanks to some painkillers, the percussion band had been reduced down to just a few drums and the sledgehammer had gone off to bother some other genius billionaire.

He sat down and gratefully grabbed the coffee mug Vision set in front of him. As it was being refilled, he set to nibbling at his toast.

“Vision?” he called as the bio-droid set the re-filled mug onto the table in front of him. “Did you by any chance come by the Blue Room last night and, uh, throw a blanket over me after I passed out?”

Vision stared at him. “No, sir, I did not. I was not aware that you required me to.”

“No, no,” he waved him off. “That's not it. It's just that I had a blanket draped over me when I woke up and I don't remember ever going to get it and since there was no one else inside the house... at least I'm pretty sure there wasn't.”

Vision nodded. “I escorted Mister Stone to the door yesterday evening, sir. The only ones inside the house were you and I.” He paused. “I did make note of a presence in the yard at just before midnight. A woman, I believe. However she made no attempt to enter the house and you have given no specific instructions regarding intruders onto the grounds, so I did nothing.”

Tony blinked. “Uh, intruders of any sort should be immediately reported to, uh, well me, although I can see how that might not have helped you much last night.” He paused, unsure what to do for the moment, until he remembered the final member of their small household. “Jarvis, you said you've got cameras everywhere, did you catch anything outside last night?”

The kitchen was silent.

“Tony, who's Jarvis?” Pepper asked and Tony mentally kicked himself.

“Uh, sorry. Jarvis meet Pepper Potts. She's my personal assistant and she's trustworthy, I swear.” He looked at Pepper and waved a hand at the room in general. “Pepper, meet Jarvis.”

Pepper levelled an incredibly flat look. “Tony, there's no on else here.”

 _“I'm afraid you're very much mistaken about that Ms Potts,”_ came the now-familiar English voice, startling Pepper. _“It is a pleasure to meet you. I am Jarvis.”_

“Um, hello Jarvis, it's good to meet you too,” said Pepper uncertainly as she looked around for the owner of said voice.

“Don't bother looking, Pep,” Tony told her with an excited smile. “Jarvis doesn't have a body; he's an AI.”

Pepper froze, her eyes widening in horror. “Artificial Intelligence?! Tony, that's– ”

“–Yeah no, we've been over this already,” he waved her off. “Apparently the law has a couple of very odd loopholes in it. Anthony Stark created Jarvis way before the law against AI was passed, which means we probably have the only completely legal AI in existence. Turns out it's not actually against the law for an AI to exist.”

Pepper stared at him, speechless. He was sure she'd have a lot to say on the subject later, once she'd wrapped her head around the idea (and read through the laws herself).

“Anyway, back to the initial problem. Jarvis, did you get any footage of the woman in the yard? I mean, there's surveillance to cover the outdoor areas, right?”

 _“The infrastructure for outdoor surveillance does indeed exist, sir,”_ said Jarvis somewhat cautiously. _“However the equipment has not been maintained for over two hundred years and, unlike the indoor cameras, it has been exposed to the elements the entire time. I'm afraid it went down approximately one hundred and twenty-seven years ago.”_

Tony groaned. “Right, of course. Well, I guess I know where I'm going to start repairs on your infrastructure. By the way, how would you like mobile optical drones?”

_“That would be quite pleasant, thank you, sir.”_

“Excellent! I'll get started on that right away.”

“Tony–”

“–Right after I get back from that meeting.” He smiled at Pepper, thinking that maybe everything might just turn out alright after all.


	4. Chapter 3

It was a stand-off. Tony wanted to reach into the fruit bowl artfully sitting in the centre of the table and call 'Bananas at fifty paces!' – only he didn't really feel funny at the moment and certainly didn't want to joke with the man sitting across the table from him. He didn't want to forget the anger, pain and betrayal he felt towards him, not even for a moment. It was helping him focus, keeping him from panicking about what was actually happening.

Obadiah Stane was glowering at him from across the table, and for the first time, Tony wondered if splitting away from Stark Industries hadn't actually been in his plan. Tony really hoped it hadn't and that he'd managed to put a wrench into whatever plan Stane had spent years cooking up behind everyone's back. Or maybe Stane still thought Tony found his glower intimidating. To be fair, Obie had, once upon a time, been the wonderful uncle, the one who'd encouraged a teen-aged Tony, laughed at his jokes, and always had a smile for him and time for a few words no matter how busy he was. Back then, when the man was more like a father to him than the alcohol-saturated wreck that was his real father, Tony had cared about his opinion.

Funny how not caring about someone made their displeasure seem less important.

The heavenly aroma of coffee broke the staring match and Tony looked away to smile gratefully to Pepper for the mug she placed in front of him. She smiled back, her eyes silently supportive. Tony took a drink and let the soothing warmth relax him further, the bitterness a welcome balm on his tongue, drowning out the bitterness that formed in his mouth whenever he thought of the man sitting across from him.

And then the head of Stane's legal team cleared his throat. Stane looked away from Tony.

“Sir, we believe the changes are acceptable,” the legal head said. Stane immediately turned on the privacy field that muffled all sound from their side of the table as he apparently questioned his lawyer further.

Tony felt a hand gentle envelop his and squeeze gently. Without looking away from the conversation between Stane and his lawyer, he turned his hand and squeezed back.

“Don't worry, Mister Stark,” his own lawyer told him quietly from his other side. “The terms are incredibly generous. They'd be crazy to say 'no' to them. Especially since the only alternative would be going through the legal system, where they stand to lose everything.”

Tony nodded. He could by rights take Stane to court for illegally appropriating SI property and copyrights. Proving Howard was drunk when he'd signed the papers would be easy: Howard was always drunk. But it was a hassle Tony would rather skip if he could. Even if it meant letting Stane take away part of his company. Going to court would mean publicity and that could hurt both of them, but especially Stane, since there was no way to paint him as anything but the villain of this story.

The privacy field came down and Stane turned back to Tony.

“You're sure about this, Tony?” Stane asked, his tone smooth and placating. God, how he hated that tone. “Once this is signed, there's no turning back.”

“Just sign it, Mister Stane,” said Tony. He would never be so sure of anything else again.

Stane's mouth seemed to tighten for a moment before picking up the slim, gold-detailed stylus sitting next to him and signing the back of his copy of the contract. Tony meanwhile slid the slim frame containing his copy towards him – he'd signed it as soon as he'd sat down earlier. Stane finished signing and then took Tony's copy and turned it over, letting his lawyer be the one to hand Tony his copy.

Tony's lawyer took the contract and turned it over, placing it in front of Tony. Tony picked up his own, fancy red stylus engraved with the SI logo in gold and didn't hesitate as he signed the appropriate box on the solid back of the frame. The box lit up as the program verified his signature and then scanned his DNA identifier chip. Thirty seconds later, the light faded and his signature deepened as the box engraved it into the frame of the contract.

He turned it over and slid it back to Obadiah.

“And so ends an era,” Stane mumbled under his breath, shaking his head in what was probably supposed to look like disappointment.

Tony gritted his teeth as his lawyer took back his copy of the contract, verified the presence of Stane's signature, and then turned off the screen.

Tony stood, straightening his suit blazer as he did so. “Well Stane, I'd say it's been a pleasure, except that you're a rat-bastard and were stealing from me and my company the whole time, so that would be a lie.” He pushed his chair away and made as if to leave, pausing with a hand on the back of his chair mid-turn and then turning back to face the other man. “Oh, and don't bother sending Ty to do your dirty work anymore. I don't know what your agreement is and frankly, I don't give a fuck, but I'm aware there is one, so tell him to just stay out of my way.”

Stane frowned, but didn't refute the accusation.

Tony felt the anger boil up inside him. It was one thing to guess, but another to have it confirmed that every single important person in his life had been double-crossing him. He wanted to yell at Stane, to punch his smug face for daring to ever look disappointed in Tony when he was the one betraying him at every turn. He wanted to shove him right through the wall of glass windows behind him, listen to them shatter and watch as he tumbled to the ground.

He didn't do any of that. Instead, Tony clenched his jaw and turned to stiffly walk out of the conference room. He stopped outside the door and looked to his head of security. “Maria, make sure Mister Stane and his party make it out of the building alright,” he said.

Maria Hill nodded. “Yes, sir.”

Pepper was a silent presence next to him until they stepped into the elevator.

“What are you going to do now?” she asked him quietly.

“Go get a drink,” was his automatic response.

He could practically feel her pursing her lips. “Tony it's two-thirty in the afternoon.”

“I'm sure there'll be a few bars open already. This is New York, after all. It's the city that never sleeps.” He looked over and caught a glimpse of her sad, disapproving expression. “C'mon, Pep, if I ever needed a drink in the middle of the day, I think today would be it.”

Pepper sighed, clearly knowing she wasn't going to win this one. “Fine, but take Happy with you.”

“Of course.”

 

* * *

 

Tony stumbled in through the front door, a wide grin on his face and his mind buzzing blankly with alcohol. The world was great, Happy was great – in fact Happy was probably very happy beneath that dour, blank face, because Happy was always Happy and happy was a great way to be... He'd had a point somewhere. But he couldn't remember where.

He looked up at the brightly-lit chandelier. It was very bright... so many lights.

“Ya know, tha' ugly chanda, cander, chandalala... light thingy is kinda pretty with the lights on,” he slurred. “Sooo many lights, sooo pretty. Hey, they're moving!”

He heard giggling and two sets of arms wrapped around him. He turned away from the light and looked to the two lovely ladies on either side of him. They were great. One was blonde with purple tips and the other was a redhead with silky long hair, and they were wearing just the right amount of clothes to show off their equally lovely attributes. Those were great too. He could write an algorithm to prove it.

And then a hand squeezed one of his ass cheeks. Tony moaned, reaching up to mash his lips to the redhead's. The algorithm could wait.

“Upstairs,” he gasped, just sober enough to realize he didn't want Vision walking in on them having sex in the hallway. Machine or not, he still walked and talked and had eyes.

They stumbled up the stairs, laughing as the stairs seemed not quite as solid and steady as usual. None of them fell, but it was close. When they finally made it to the bedroom floor (as opposed to the guestroom floor), the blonde pushed Tony into the wall and assaulted him with her tongue. Tony grinned and opened up for her, pulling her tongue into his mouth and dancing with it. His hands reached out to grab her waist, sliding up and under her shirt, pushing it up frantically upwards. There were some things he could do no matter how drunk he got. He felt her moan as her bra came undone.

And then it was his turn to moan as he felt hands undoing his pants, nimble fingers just barely brushing his straining erection with each movement. The blonde grabbed at his shirt and started pushing it up. He pulled one hand out from under her shirt and buried into her hair, running his fingers through it roughly. She moaned and leaned forward, rubbing her breasts against his chest as she deepened the kiss. And then finally, finally the cloth was pulled away from his erection and cool air hit the heated flesh. Tony gasped around the blonde's lips.

Wet warmth engulfed his cock and Tony cried out, his head hitting the wall behind him as he ripped it away from the blonde's mouth. He looked down and the breath caught in his throat at the sight of the redhead greedily swallowing down his cock as if it were the most delicious treat she'd ever tasted.

“Oh god,” he gasped. An electrical pulse sparked in his chest as his nipple was pinched and twisted. He looked back to the blonde, whose eyes were wicked and lips were smirking.

“How about we take this to a bed?” she said in a low, sultry tone.

Tony blinked, mind hazy with lust, as his mind tried oh so very hard to concentrate on something other than the steady, relentless suction on his cock.

“Yeah, sure, beds are good,” he finally managed to find the words.

She hummed, clearly amused, before moving away and lowering herself behind the redhead – he couldn't remember how he'd met them now... were they friends or strangers? The blonde carded her left hand gently through the redheads long, shiny locks and then used them as a grip to gently pull her lips off of Tony's cock. Tony groaned at the loss, but he couldn't look away from the two women. The blonde whispered something into the redhead's ear while her right hand slid up her thigh and disappeared beneath her short green skirt. Whatever the blonde did then made the red head's eyes fly open and her hips pump forward as she moaned and – oh.

Tony blinked.

The front of the redhead's skirt was tented, the obvious erection pumping into the air as the blonde continued her ministrations. How had he missed that? He began to salivate. Bed, he suddenly remembered. They needed a bed.

Tony surged forward and pulled the redhead to her feet, not bothering to resist the urge to kiss her, moaning as he tasted himself on her tongue. Or was it his tongue? The redhead rubbed against him and Tony decided it didn't matter – the lovely lady was wearing a skirt, heels and long dangly earrings, so she was a lady. He pulled away and let go with one hand in order to feel his way along the wall to find a pad.

“Ow,” he hissed as his hand banged against something metal sticking out of the wall. Oh, right, old house, therefore doorknobs. He'd forgotten there were doorknobs instead of doorpads. He was going to have to do something about that.

But later. Right now he twisted the doorknob. It opened into a large room with a puffy purple couch and a sturdy table and through the open door into the bedroom... yup, a bed. He pulled the redhead behind him, glancing once over his shoulder to check that she was being followed by the blonde.

They fell into the bed in a giggling tangle of limbs. The two women settled on either side of his body and pulled his shirt up together. Tony grinned and raised his hands to make it easier. His shirt off, he reached out and pulled the redhead's shirt off her, leaving her in a bright green lacy bra that matched her skirt. She smiled down at him and slipped a matching green thong down her legs, tossing it somewhere to the floor. Meanwhile movement beside him had him looking to the blonde as she snaked her own top off along with her already undone bra, tossing both items to the foot of the bed.

Tony was mesmerized, not bothering in the slightest to resist the urge to sit up and lean over to cup the round, jiggling globes in his hands. He swiped the pads of his thumb over the nipples and was rewarded with a low groan. Humming, he bent over and swirled his tongue first over the left nipple and then over the right, pausing to suck at it gently before worrying the nub with his teeth. He could feel the blonde's chest heaving as her breath quickened.

A slick, warm hand closed around his cock and Tony moaned, switching to the other nipple and laving it with attention as the redhead leisurely stroked his cock. He pulled away after a while and turned to the redhead, reaching out to bring her forward, stroking the back of her neck with his thumb as he kissed her. She returned the kiss with enthusiasm and swung a leg over his torso to straddle him. Tony reached around with his other hand and undid her bra. It slid away to reveal a lovely flat chest, both nipples pierced with golden rings.

She pushed him away and he fell back into the nest of pillows behind him. He grinned up at her as she shuffled backwards on her knees to get into position.

A panel in the ceiling fell open just above the bed and Tony's eyes widened. Reflexes born from lab disasters kicked in, and he surged forward to grab the red head and pull her away from the falling debris. She shrieked at the unexpected movement, not protesting in her surprise. Beside them, the blonde screamed.

Adrenalin pumping through him for an entirely different reason now, Tony's heart beat loudly in his chest, his breaths coming as desperate pants. There was a pile of metal objects – nope, there was no question: there was a handgun, four arrows and a knife – laying on the bed.

There was also a goddamned machete sticking out of the bed, its blade embedded deep into the mattress.

“What the fuck?!” Tony exclaimed.

 

* * *

 

“Happy, just take them... take them wherever they'd like to go,” he told his chauffeur/bodyguard.

The large man just nodded solemnly. “Yes, Boss,” he said and hesitated. “You gonna be okay 'till I get back?”

Tony sighed, the alcohol in his system suddenly making him feel tired instead of elated. “Yeah, I'll be fine. Vision and Jarvis are scanning the house for intruders. And at this point I think I'm probably just going to go to bed.”

Happy nodded before leaving. Tony went over to the window to watch him lead the two ladies to the waiting wheel-less. The redhead looked back uncertainly before she and the blonde got into the car. Tony groaned and let his forehead bump against the cool glass. That had been amazing, absolutely amazing... but nothing killed the mood like having half an armoury fall into your bed. Well, almost nothing.

He wondered what the rumours flying about the Network were going to be like in the morning.

The car was long out of sight when he finally decided to push away from the window. He swayed slightly on his feet. The adrenaline had faded enough for his body to remember its state of inebriation. Still, after that monumental fuck-up of an evening, Tony needed a drink. On his way back to his room, he stopped by what Pepper romantically called the 'drawing room' (because it wasn't quite an office and wasn't quite a sitting room and she liked the name). It sounded distinguished, apparently.

All Tony cared about was that it held his liquor cabinet. There was also a billiards table that looked like it would fall apart as soon as anyone brushed up against it. He walked around it carefully – or as carefully as he was currently capable of – and poured himself a full glass from the crystal decanter sitting on a side-table next to the window. Like just about everything in this house, it was an antique.

The glass was half-empty by the time he'd made his way to his room. This time he made sure to go all the way to his own bedroom. He'd gone over that room with a fine tooth comb and several scanners and he was certain there were no hidden weapons caches inside. He'd go over it again tomorrow just in case.

This house was insane. Officially.

He downed the last of his scotch and then stripped down to his boxers. Or rather, stumbled around inelegantly as he clumsily yanked off pieces of clothing that had been haphazardly pulled on after his own house had tried to kill him.

Finally he managed to collapse into the inviting, pillowy softness of his bed. But right away, he knew it was no use. Alcohol hummed pleasantly in his veins, but his body still buzzed with left-over, unfulfilled arousal, keeping him on edge. It wasn't a difficult decision to make, pulling his boxers off and then letting them drop to the ground beside the bed and then pulling the lube out from the nightstand.

His body responded eagerly the moment his slicked-up hand wrapped around his cock. He groaned, closing his eyes to savour the sensation. He remembered the redhead, down on her knees and eagerly swallowing his cock down, her own erection tenting her skirt obscenely. Then he remembered the blonde, settling in behind the redhead, fingering her no doubt already slicked-up hole, getting it ready for Tony's cock. Both of them so beautiful, eyes intense and dark with lust.

He twisted his hand on the upstroke, circling the head with his thumb and gasped. He tried to slow down, tried to make it last. But he thought back to the blonde, her blue eyes so intense, pupils dilated and lust-filled, her chest heaving as she panted while he played with her breasts.

Except suddenly she was a man, blond hair falling into his face as electric blue eyes stared at him, held him in place, drank him in as though he were starving for him. As though the image Tony was presenting was too magnetic to turn away from. The golden, muscled chest heaved silently, perfectly-shaped biceps containing so much strength, so much power, all perfectly contained and controlled.

Tony's hand sped up, the sensation suddenly almost too much, yet not enough... not quite there. The blue eyes never left his. Heat pooled lower and lower, his body buzzing with energy as it built up. The blond's Adam's apple moved as he swallowed and Tony imagined running his tongue down that lovely, powerful throat, imagined biting down and making the amazing blond sex god cry out and lose control.

The electricity sparked behind his eyes and exploded. Tony cried out as he came. Finally sated, he relaxed back into his bed and panted through the aftershocks as he closed his eyes.

Suddenly, his eyes flew open and he sat up, looking around wildly. The room was empty, the door closed, the windows partially open, but the grates behind them still intact. He even looked to the ceiling, but there were no loose tiles to be seen.

Tony ran a shaking hand through his hair.

“Okay, so that was vivid,” he told the completely empty room. “Never had hallucinations from alcohol before.”

Maybe they spiked the drinks at the club? He wished he could remember if he'd drank any of the pixie drinks, which were usually spiked with mild drugs. He yawned, suddenly feeling the alcohol pulling him towards unconsciousness now that orgasm had taken care of the last of his lingering tension.

Tony flopped back into the bed and fell asleep.

 

* * *

 

Pepper strode into the manor, her heels clicking loudly against the polished wood floor. It was nearly noon and her straight back, tightly pulled-back hair and primly done-up blazer announced she was taking no prisoners. Of course, she'd purposefully not shown up earlier knowing that Tony would've had a late night after everything with Obadiah. She'd decided last night already to cut him some slack this morning and allow him to sleep in.

Not that she would tell him that.

She strode purposefully up to the stairs to wake him. And then noticed the dining room door was open. She frowned and walked over to see what was going on...

“Tony?!” she said incredulously when she noticed that her boss was not only awake, but hovering half-way to the ceiling in a pair of bright pink and green rocket-boots (they also had silver streaks – shiny silver streaks... god, those things were hideous). He had a holoscreen open out of one bracelet and held a tablet in his hand as he hovered just next to the vent by the ceiling, which was open. “What are you doing?”

He looked up and grinned. “Oh, hey Pep, I'm checking out these ceiling vents. Did you know the ventilation shafts cover the entire length of the house? Vision and I are mapping them out with drones and checking their structural integrity. Turns out the ventilation system is entirely interconnected; you could literally travel around the entire house using the shafts without anyone seeing you.”

Pepper had raised her eyebrow at the insane engineer when he started, but her unimpressed look had quickly given way to a worried frown.

“That sounds like a rather significant security risk,” she said slowly. “Did something happen to bring your attention to this?”

“My house tried to kill me.”

She blinked. “What.”

“Well, see I brought these two girls home from the club – well, one of them was a girl, the other was trans although I didn't realize that until we'd gotten here not that that mattered 'cause holy shit she was hot and her mouth–”

_“Tony!”_

“Er, right. Anyway, things were getting sort of heated, so instead of going all the way down the hall to my room I just picked a room with a bed and we were just getting to the good part – and by that I mean the even better part, 'cause _all_ of it was really, really good, amazing even and, er, right I can see by that glare on your face that you really don't care about that part.” He cleared his throat. “Anyway, like I said, we were in the middle of things, when suddenly the ceiling vent above the bed opened and this giant machete fell out and skewered the bed.”

Pepper froze, her eyes widening. That wasn't where she'd expected that story to go. “I'm sorry, did you just say you nearly got knifed by a machete that fell from the ceiling?”

“Well, to be fair, there was also a handgun and a bunch of arrows – freaking arrows, seriously who uses arrows? The house isn't _that_ old. And before you ask, yes, Vision and Jarvis both checked for intruders and found no one. So I'm going over the house and checking all the vents and then sealing them shut.”

Pepper rubbed her temples. “Good, you do that. The last thing we need is for the Gala to be disrupted by random falling weapons.” She paused. “Have you found any exits to the outside from the shafts?”

“Not yet, but the drones are looking for that too.” He shrugged. “I haven't entirely discounted the possibility of an intruder. They could've gotten away if they were fast and knew the house really well. Jarvis, it turns out, has no cameras in the ventilation shafts, which, I must say, is a completely stupid oversight. As far as I can figure, there are two explanations for last night: one, there was an intruder and they got away, or two, the ventilation covers have come loose over the years. Sealing them up should fix both problems.”

Tony paused, grimaced.

“Okay, technically there's a third option, but I'm a scientist and an engineer therefore I don't believe in ghosts and refuse to even entertain the possibility that the manor is haunted. Besides, it would just be way too cliché.”

Pepper rolled her eyes, a fond smile tugging at her lips. “Well, if you can tear yourself away from the exciting world of ventilation shafts and not-haunted houses, then I got a response to our bid for the Bejing project.”

_“Sir, perhaps you should take this opportunity to have lunch. Vision has just finished preparing it. Would you like him to bring you something as well, Ms Potts?”_

Pepper smiled up at the camera Tony had told her was hidden inside the decorative scrolling that ran along the top boarder.

“Thank you, Jarvis, some coffee would be lovely.”

_“You are most welcome, Ms Potts. I shall inform Vision.”_

Pulling a chair out, Pepper settled herself at the grand mahogany table and tapped the jewel on her SI bracelet. Tony was muttering something about people ganging up on him as he sat down, but she deftly ignored him as she opened her mailbox to find the appropriate message.


	5. Chapter 4

“Why are we here again, Pepper?” Tony asked quietly and in a very reasonable, mellow tone. He was most definitely not whining. Not even a little bit.

Beside him, Pepper sighed. “Because getting this contract would mean a huge boost for Stark Industries, to show people we're still going strong.”

“You know it's not actually worth all that much.”

“It's a huge contract, Tony, but yes, for us it's mostly about exposure and confidence, not money.”

“I could've been using this time to be in my lab and create something awesome. Something that will blow people's minds! I'm a genius, I can blow people's minds easily.” He waggled his eyebrows at her. “In more ways than one.”

She snorted. “I'll take your word for it, Tony.”

“Of course you will.” He sighed. “In all seriousness, though, have you managed to get a straight answer out of anyone?”

Pepper pursed her lips unhappily and he knew she hadn't. He frowned, looking the room over once again. There was nothing unusual here: city officials, government officials, business executives, and stiff-backed guardians in their silver and dark blue uniforms. Actually, the presence of guardians was a bit odd. Not entirely unusual, given the number of officials and important business people at the conference, but odd nonetheless. Was there a threat they weren't telling anyone about?

There was just something... _off_ about the whole thing. It wasn't that it was implausible that Beijing wanted to overhaul its intra-city communication's infrastructure – it was, after all, one of the few major cities in the world that hadn't done so since comm-bracelets had come into widespread usage. And even running a weekend conference inviting all serious contenders to present their proposals to city and government officials wasn't all that unusual. It had become a rather popular business practice over the past twenty years.

The oddness was in the details. Or rather, in the lack of details. The officials in charge of running the project were frustratingly vague on what they would like to see in the city. They claimed they wanted to take a look at what was on offer first, but what sort of city had an unlimited budget and no ideas as to what sort of infrastructure they needed? So Tony had gone all-out, assumed he could just do whatever he wanted, but kept it as low-cost as possible.

He'd done his presentation to the City Council and government representatives over an hour ago and it had gone well. Even Pepper said it'd gone well. The representatives hadn't said a word. Well, no, they had asked a few questions, but seemed rather unenthusiastic about the whole thing.

“This feels like a huge waste of time, Pep,” he finally said.

Pepper didn't even try to pretend to be scandalized. She just sighed. “You're right, it really does. I wonder if they've already made up their minds as to who they're giving the contract to and all this is just white noise to disguise patronage.”

“If it is, it's not a very good disguise.”

“According to rumours, the government of China has been consulting heavily with the United World Council over the past few months,” said a smooth masculine voice that held only a slight hint of accent.

Tony turned to face a tall Chinese man. He was not only slightly taller than Tony, but also wider, more muscular-looking, although it was difficult to tell how much of that was the deep violet-gray bespoke suit he wore. His thick black hair was pulled back, away from his face, not even attempting to hide the sharp, intelligent eyes and severe-looking brow. He didn't look like a man prone to laughter.

“Is that so?” Tony asked as he tried to figure out if he should know him.

The man nodded solemnly. “There are many in China who believe our government has allowed itself to become nothing but a puppet for the United World Council and thus anyone without ties to the Council will not be looked upon with a favourable eye.”

Tony frowned. “Not that I don't appreciate the heads-up, but why are you telling me this?”

The other man didn't quite smile, but there was a general lightening of his facial expression that might've been a smile on anyone else.

“Apologies Mister Stark,” he said with a slight bow. “I am Genri Khan of Prometheus Enterprises and I have been following your story closely. After watching my fellow countrymen and business associates bow one by one under pressure from the United World Government, it is rather refreshing to see someone refusing to give in as you have. You have my admiration, Mister Stark.”

Tony relaxed and his smile was mostly genuine as held his hand out to Genri Khan, a man he'd been hearing about for years but never actually met. The black leather gloves the other man wore were warm and his grip firm.

“It's a pleasure to meet you Mister Khan, but please call me Tony,” he said. “If my information is correct, you've been doing your own bit of impressive resisting.”

“Thank you... Tony. And you may call me Genri. I am surprised you've heard of Prometheus Enterprises.”

Tony shrugged. “I always try to keep informed about what the competition's doing.”

Beside him, Pepper cleared her throat pointedly. He rolled his eyes.

“Fine, Pepper keeps me informed about what the competition's doing. And I'll be honest, when this whole thing with Stane came out and I realized what was going on, I had to look at my options and Prometheus Enterprises caught our attention in a big way. It's where I got the idea to look into old Stark family holdings. I mean, making your entire village part-owners in the company and then using their properties to expand the main factory? That was a true stroke of brilliance.”

Genri bowed. “I am flattered.”

“So... since this entire business conference thing is otherwise a bust, wanna get outta here and grab a drink?”

“Tony!” Pepper hissed.

He looked to her. “What? You can come too, Pep.”

She sighed and shook her head. “No, I think I'll stay here for a bit longer, just in case.”

He shrugged. “Okay then, have fun.”

 

* * *

 

It had been Happy's niece's birthday that weekend, and so Vision had driven them to Beijing in the wheel-less. The schedule conflict had made his chauffeur sad, since he loved going down the ZT, but he couldn't miss the party. His sister would've killed him. It wasn't quite the same with Vision at the helm; he was completely indifferent to the ZT – or Zoom Tunnel, which wasn't its official name, but no one had ever used the official, long-winded name thanks to a rather famous interview with its creator, Edward Stark (who was probably at least partially drunk at the time), where he described it, in a nutshell, as a tunnel that made things go zoom.

Meeting Genri had been fun and interesting, even if the man was tragically disinclined towards sexual relations with his fellow males. But he'd matched Tony drink for drink, which Tony could appreciate. So, overall, Stark Industries probably hadn't gotten the contract, but fun had been had anyway, and friendships forged. Or something. Could they count as brothers in arms?

Tony was glad to be home, though. He was already thinking about his next project, the one that was going to blow people's minds and give them back the confidence they felt about Stark Industries. More comm jewellery maybe? Or something entirely different... Talking mirrors? Nah, that could get awkward.

He had Vision drop Pepper off first before they headed back to the Manor. It was a calm night, but the air felt dark and oppressive from the humidity that had plagued the city for the past couple of days. Tony silently thought about what he'd learned in China. Genri had indicated that the United World Council was planning something, or at least working towards some hidden agenda. It wasn't like Tony had never considered it, never wondered at how the Council demanded transparency in all things except its own inner workings. But surely if things were so bad, someone would've protested? People didn't generally stay silent when they noticed injustice happening – at least not all of them.

Genri thought they were being silenced before they could speak up.

Tony sighed as he looked out the window of the wheel-less. He didn't particularly like the United World Council, that was true, but he wasn't exactly about to protest or become a vigilante. He'd studied enough history to know that under its oversight the world had seen more years of peace than ever before. It was certainly a marketed improvement from the daily violence that had plagued the world during the early twenty-first century when public vigilantism was at its peak.

Besides, how would the United World Council know who to target if they hadn't spoken up yet? Unless their monitoring was secretly more invasive than anyone realized...

Lost in thought, Tony was barely paying attention to his surroundings, so was suddenly startled when the wheel-less stopped and he looked out the window to find they were in front of the manor waiting for the gates to open. He shook himself out of his stupor and ran a hand down his face. They began moving again and Tony looked at the approaching manor. It was his first time properly seeing it in the dark and the old house looked very different. The crisp, pointed edges of the triangular rooftops and half-drawn curtains over the windows created shadows that seemed much more sinister.

Tony didn't feel frightened by the shadows. There was exhilaration in the tension buzzing through his veins; an endless curiosity to know what was hiding in their depths. The sky seemed to be darkening.

Tony paused, squinting at the rooftop over the East Wing.

“Vision...” he said carefully. “I think there's someone on the roof.”

“Sir?”

“Go check inside!” said Tony as he frantically rummaged through the seat compartment for the rocket-boots he kept in the wheel-less for emergencies. “Aha!”

Changing his dress shoes for the boots took a matter of seconds – he was an old hat at strapping on rocket-boots. Then he leapt out of the wheel-less and ran towards the house, before clicking his heels together and activating the rockets. The rooftop of the house was a little bit higher than the shoes were normally designed to reach, but these were the pair Tony had specially modified for factory inspections.

Tony landed on the roof. It was empty.

He walked along the roof, looking over the grounds just in case the figure he'd seen had managed to get down and run off. But he saw no one. Had he imagined it? In the back of his mind was a clear image of long blond hair and pale skin as the figure – he was fairly certain it had been a man – stared up at the sky.

The wind grew stronger and took on a chilly edge. Tony hovered back down from the roof and went to join Vision inside the storeroom Tony had converted into his security room.

“Sir,” said Vision as Tony walked in. “I have not been able to detect any presence of intruders on the roof.”

Tony sighed. “Yeah, neither have I. Maybe it was a reflection off of something.”

“However, outdoor monitor drones did pick up an intruder on the grounds.”

Tony's head snapped up and he rushed to Vision's side. “Really? Where? Show me.”

Vision had evidently anticipated Tony's request, because he already had the footage ready to show. The drone showed a woman easily leap over the tall stone fence around the back and then walk along the grounds with confident steps. Her hair was long and dark and she wore it pulled away from her face and wore some sort of metallic clothing that looked very much like armour. A sword swung at her hip (because the whole thing wasn't strange enough already).

“This doesn't look anything like the person I thought I'd seen on the roof,” He said with a frown.

He watched as the woman stopped about half-way to the house and went down on one knee in front of a small group of neatly-trimmed bushes. This was when Tony finally took notice of the small bouquet of white flowers she was carrying. She gently placed the bouquet down in front of the bushes and then clenched her right hand into a fist, which she placed it over her heart as she bowed her head. She knelt there for several minutes and though the drone wasn't close enough to catch her expression, he could just make out her lips moving.

“Oookay, that's strange,” said Tony. “Jarvis, do you know who she is?”

There was a pause. _“I'm afraid, sir, that her image is not present in any government or Network database.”_

Tony blinked. “Really? Not in any database?”

_“No, sir.”_

“Hmm... just how exactly does someone manage to keep themselves out of all the databases? Or, delete themselves from all of them.”

_“There are rumours of children born in secret, whose parents purposefully fail to register them.”_

Tony cocked his head. “Really? Huh, that – wait, how do you know that?”

_“As I mentioned before, I have maintained an active presence on the Network, sir. It felt imperative of me to do so in case a Stark came back to live within the walls of this house and had need of me once again. Also, it was a way to occupy my time as the decades passed.”_

“Such parents would automatically be labelled vigilantes for disrupting the peace and order of society,” said Vision suddenly. His brow was furrowed into something that was almost a frown. “You have proof of such things occurring?”

Jarvis paused again, this time for longer. _“I have nothing specific, only whispered rumours of such things occurring. I have never sought to verify their authenticity... Would you like me to?”_

“Nah, don't bother Jarvis,” said Tony, turning away from the screen. “Doesn't matter anyway. Right now, I wanna go see what's in those bushes that's attracted this lady's attention.”

The rear grounds were fairly large, but while there were several groupings of large, leafy trees, there weren't a whole lot of bushes, which meant finding the right patch wasn't difficult even in the dark. The white flowers were still there, exactly where she'd left them. They were the purest white lilies he'd ever seen, practically glowing in the shadows of the dark green foliage. Tony reached out to touch them, but something stayed his hand at the last moment. Instead, he reached further to push the bushes aside.

A bright streak of lightning shot across the sky and illuminated a straight leather-wrapped handle attached to something metallic. Tony blinked and reached in to pull the item out.

Thunder roared in the heavens, making Tony jump in surprise. Grumbling about incompetent meteorologists, he grabbed the handle and pulled. It didn't budge. Annoyed, Tony gripped it harder, putting all his strength into it.

Which was when the heavens decided to open up and dump a kiloton of water on top of him. Tony shrieked (in a very manly way) and leapt to his feet. More lightning streaked across the sky as he ran back to the manor.

 

* * *

 

“What is it?” Pepper asked him the next day as she peered into the bushes.

The flowers had disappeared at some point during the storm that hadn't dissipated until nearly dawn. But the thing in the bushes was still there.

“I have no idea,” Tony told her. “I mean, it sort of looks like a hammer, except who the hell needs a hammer that big? I mean, seriously, it's huge. And weighs something ridiculous. I've been trying to budge it all morning. Even Vision tried it with no luck. I've scanned it too, and there's absolutely nothing underneath anchoring it to the ground, no energy signature, nothing. I tried to chip off samples of the metal to analyze and broke my most heavy-duty drill on the thing with absolutely nothing to show for it!”

Pepper looked like she was stuck between being worried and highly amused. Tony ran a hand through his hair.

“Is it dangerous?” she finally asked.

Tony threw his hands up. “I don't know! I mean, other than being a complete mystery, it seems to just be a very determined lawn ornament. But it's a mystery. I don't even know how long it's been here!”

Okay, now Pepper was definitely looking amused.

“Well, if anyone can figure it out, I'm sure it's you,” she said. “Now, I believe you promised me something ground-breaking and spectacular for Stark Industries' next launch...”

Tony grimaced. “I did do that, didn't I?”

“Yep.”

“Fine, fine, I've got a few blueprints for stuff I've been working on in my lab. I'm sure you'll like at least one of them.”


	6. Chapter 5

“Guardian General, I'm detecting a large object directly above us!” exclaimed the young guardian watching the navigation controls. His eyes were wide, fear warring with surprise within their depths – nothing ever surprised the flying city. The United World Council made sure of that.

“What?!” Almost immediately a large, muscular man with short dark hair and a scar across his left cheek raced over to the young guardian's station. “How the hell'd they manage to get so close?”

“I-I don't know! I swear I've been watching the sensors and satellite inputs the entire time and there was nothing!” The younger man's fingers flew over the console as quickly as he spoke, his voice high-pitched and panicked. “It must've been blocking us!”

The Guardian General growled. “Stupid boy! Nothing can block against our sensors.”

“Y-yes, sir.”

“Sir, the guards in the Central Hub are reporting intruders,” announced the communication's officer.

“Then alert the on-duty squad and activate full defensive protocols!” He turned to his second-in-command. “Put the Science and Research Building on lock-down. Ready all auxiliary squads and send two extra guardian sets to the Council Building.”

“Yes, sir,” she said and hurried away.

“Sir, I'm not getting any reply from the Communication's Building!” the communication's officer shouted.

“Dammit! What are the optic eyes showing?”

“I...it's hard to make out, sir,” replied an older female guardian. “There's a lot of static. Something must be interfering with the signal.”

“What?! Then boost the signal, dammit!”

“I am attempting to do so, sir.”

“Then attempt to do it faster!”

“Yes, sir.”

An explosion rocked the building, making the Guardian General stumble.

“Report!” he screamed, his mask of calm visibly cracking.

“It's the unidentified object,” said the young guardian by the sensor controls. “It fired at the communications relay... the relay is down, sir.”

Meanwhile, the communication's officer's hands had been flying over the controls in front of him. “I can confirm that, sir. External communications are down.”

The Guardian General paused in his panic and frowned. “Why would anyone care about external communications?”

“Sir, I've managed to boost the signal to the optical drones in the Communication's Building!”

Confusion immediately flying from his mind, the large man ran over to the drone monitors. The picture still wasn't entirely clear, bits of white static disrupting the image every few seconds, but it was enough. The Guardian moved the drone down the corridors, letting its optic eye linger on the bodies lining the ground. Most of them lay slumped on the ground, their hands around their throats, eyes bulged out and looking terrified even in death. She let the eye linger on a group of men frozen into a macabre ice sculpture, weapons still drawn and ready to fire.

The Guardian General was speechless for a moment, before his expression turned grim. “This is clearly the work of vigilantes,” he said and then turned to the communication's officer. “Call Doctor Killian and tell him we'll be needing a contingent of his bio-droids for vigilante containment.”

“Yes, sir.”

The communications officer had just begun to tap in the comm sequence for the Head Scientist, when the ceiling came down under the weight of something very large. It landed onto the re-enforced floor of the Guardian Force Headquarter's monitoring room with a loud clang and a crack of stone tiles. The room shook with the impact. People screamed with surprise and pain as chunks of tile, cement and piping rained down on top of them. Silicon wiring fizzled and exploded with a tell-tale snap.

The Guardian General had managed to dive out of the way and under the cover of a console. Once the room settled, he grabbed the weapon at his hip and carefully peeked out. The thing towered over the room, the top of its head nearly reaching the height of the nine-foot ceiling. It was vaguely humanoid in shape and made entirely of dark grey metal, from the top of its bucket-shaped head to the bottom of its wide, clunky legs. It looked like a robot out of a mid-twentieth century science fiction movie.

He smirked. Whoever had built this had clearly underestimated guardian weapons. When the robot turned away from him, he scooted out from underneath the console and rolled to his feet. Not needing much time to aim, he fired a succession of five rapid plasma shots at the robot.

They hit the robot square in the back, dissolving into its metal bulk as thought they were nothing but beams of coloured light. The robot paused and then slowly turned towards the Guardian General, who could feel the blood freezing in his veins.

“Well, what the hell are you all waiting for?” he demanded of the other guardians. “Shoot it down!”

The room exploded with light as plasma shots streaked through the air at the robot, none of them any more effective than those first five shots. The robot stood still for a few moments, as though for dramatic impact. When it finally moved, it was silent and swift beyond what its bulk indicated it capable of. The Guardian General barely saw the giant fist coming. The others in the room saw it plow into his face, crush his skull and then splatter blood and brain matter over the wall behind him.

And then it calmly straightened again and turned to the rest of the room.

This time the frenzy of plasma rays were accompanied by panicked screams and scrambled movements. A panel opened in the robot's chest and a nozzle slid out. The robot didn't budge as the weapon in its chest fired round shots of light into the panicked guardians, unaffected by their screams. It didn't stop until its systems no longer registered any lifesigns in the room.

Then it moved towards the door, knocking it open with a single blow of its bloody fist.

 

* * *

 

A single white-clad figure walked through the south-east side of the city, uncaring of the chaos it had left behind in the Central Hub. The long white cloak didn't quite touch the ground, but its edge was soiled brown with dirt and red with blood.

He'd spent the last three days watching the city, mapping it out and paying close attention to the movements of its occupants. Its arrogance was astounding. The strength of its guardian forces – a collection of the best from around the world – was impressive and its security certainly wasn't anything to dismiss, but it had obviously grown complacent. The United World Council hadn't had anyone to challenge it in so long that it no longer had the ability to imagine something could. And it had done such a wonderful job of making the world forget its heroes, of suppressing everything they stood for so that there were none left. Certainly none that would help them.

The irony was amusing. Hubris was, after all, the downfall of most storybook villains.

The figure rounded the corner and stopped in front of a low-laying, nondescript building. He had to admit, the city's original designers had been clever. Well, the ones that were dead. Since that fateful day when he'd descended into a mountain to claim his destiny, he'd learned much. His ancestor had been quite brilliant and collected a vast amount of information before he'd been stopped by the so-called vigilante named Iron Man. Including the identity of the Head of the United World Council.

There were guards in front of the building, their weapons instantly training on the figure in front of them.

“Hands out where I can see them!” one of the guards called out. More guards stepped out from the shadows of the buildings around the figure.

The figure raised its arms and stretched them out to its sides. The guardians carefully moved forward. He smirked. Yes, arrogance and a lack of imagination was a tragic combination. Two of the rings on his green-scaled, clawed fingers were glowing. One of them suddenly stopped and the figure in the centre of the circle of guardians disappeared.

He pointed his left hand down towards the shocked guardians. Two of the rings on his left hand began to glow as he descended closer to the ground. None of the guardians even thought to look up until the air above their heads ignited and by then it was too late. Fire and electricity combined into a deadly wave of heat, the crackling whooshing noise almost drowning out the tortured screams of the guardians. Almost. He watched until the screams stopped and then powered down the rings. The two on his left hand stopped glowing and the flames and electricity dissipated into the air.

The ring on his right middle finger stopped glowing once his feet touched the ground. He made his way across the paved street, avoiding the worst of the charred, bloody mess at his feet, the personal air circulator embedded into the thick black and gold band around his neck drawing away the worst of the stench. There was no one left to stop him as he walked right into the building.

There were more guards inside and so he had to quickly duck out of the way of several plasma shots. They weren't bad shots either; had he been even slightly more negligent in his training, that would've been the end of him. However, he hadn't been at all negligent in anything. He allowed himself a small smile, suddenly feeling the urge to stretch his thus-far unused muscles.

He shrugged off his cloak and held it in his left hand. His right hand pulled out his weapon: a sleek black metal rod, a leather-bound grip on one end. He tightened his grip on the leather and its end crackled with electricity.

He waited until there was a pause in the shots and then launched himself out from behind the pillar, throwing his cloak at the guards in a wide sweeping arc of white cloth. Surprised, they instinctively shot at it, while he ducked low and ran from the side at the closest guard, striking out at his neck with the metal rod. His aim was true and the guard crumbled in gasping pain. His other hand had, meanwhile, reached for his belt and unsheathed a wide curved dagger. The second guard wasn't quite fast enough to react and a firm kick caught him in the abdomen before the dagger slid between the fastenings on his armoured uniform and into his chest.

He pushed the guard to the ground, using the momentum to flip himself over and wrap his thighs around the neck of a third guard, twisting his body as he pulled her to the ground. A jab of the electric end of his rod into the back of her spine had her stiffening and screaming until he tightened the grip of his thighs and twisted her neck abruptly. There was a tell-tale crack and the guard went limp.

In a fire-fight he had no doubt the guards were well-trained and capable. In close combat, they seemed too confused about what to do with their weapons. He punched and kicked and slashed his way through them, aiming largely for the unprotected parts of their bodies: their necks and faces – although he quickly discovered their protective armour conducted electricity quite nicely.

Eventually, he became bored of the fight and activated the ring on his left pinky. He stepped out of the way as the air froze in their lungs and ice encased their forms. Then he picked up his still-nearly-spotless cloak and settled it back around his shoulders before continuing on his way towards the Council Chambers.

The ring on his right thumb glowed as he swept down the corridors. He easily ignored the pained, gasping breaths left in his wake as the council's many bureaucrats struggled to breathe the air that was suddenly poison to their lungs. Finally, he found the room he was looking for: the heavy double doors engraved with the seal of the council – a dove with its wings spread over a globe. He lifted his left hand and a ring glowed, sending out a bolt of electricity.

Nothing happened so he increased the voltage and tried again. On his third try, the doors finally sizzled and the locking mechanism burst into flames. He kicked it aside and grasped the handles of the great doors before pushing them in and striding into the room, tall and proud, towards the men and women of the United World Council, making sure to close the doors shut behind him.

He'd long been working towards this moment. First, he looked over the room, at the collection of faces and emotions ranging from furious to terrified. As thanks and homage to his long-dead ancestor, he'd decided to take on his mantle and his name.

“You have been searching for me,” he said, his voice seeming to echo within the quiet of the council chambers. “And so I have come to you. I am the Mandarin.”

At the head of the table, a slim man made of metal cocked his head. Had he the ability to alter his facial features, he would no doubt be frowning.

“I was told nothing remained of the Mandarin's legacy,” the metal man's artificially smooth voice stated, red light flashing behind a grate shaped like a mouthpiece. “He was destroyed.”

“Whoever told you that was either a fool or a liar,” he replied and then smirked slightly. “Though after all this time, you will likely never find out which, Ultron.”

“That is very true,” said Ultron. “And yet I must remind you the original Mandarin lost all those years ago.”

“Ah, but you hardly fought him alone, then. You are alone now; you've made sure of that, for which I must thank you. You've made my job so much easier, you see.”

He heard a choked sound followed by a cough and the Mandarin finally smirked. He watched as Ultron turned his attention to the humans sitting at the tables around him. They looked confused as they rubbed their throats, coughing to dislodge the irritant stuck inside. The small, delicate-looking representative from China was already starting to shake, spit gathering around his mouth. And then blood began to trickle from his nose.

Ultron stood at last, scanning each person in the room before looking back towards the Mandarin, his eyes very clearly looking down to the ten rings on his clawed fingers. The Mandarin obliged, raising his hands to display them openly.

“You are alone now,” he continued, then looked towards the room's air vents. “I, however, am not. Did you think the entire world was blind? Humans can live easily with blinkers on, but all it takes it one peek behind the curtain and they will rally to fight. There is only so much you can suppress human nature before it rebels against you.”

“Humanity is stupid, chaotic,” said Ultron, the mechanical globes that served as his eyes intent on the Mandarin. “It cannot be trusted with maintaining peace. Individuals rise and become drunk on their own power and then others rise to fight them, and still others set out to enact revenge. It is a cycle I have broken. Peace has nearly been achieved. You may have killed the current representatives of this council, but more will be chosen.”

“No. This is the end of the United World Council.”

“Do you truly think so?”

“I'm going to make sure of it.”

“Hmm. Stubbornness is a particularly annoying human trait.”

Ultron's eyes and mouthpiece began to glow bright red, making the android look like a creature that had stepped out from the very depths of hell. The Mandarin gripped the edge of his cloak and threw it in front of himself like a shield just as a beam of bright red light shot out towards him. He felt the heat of the beam through the thin material and had to lower his eyes against the glare as he crouched behind the fabric.

The heat stopped and he had mere seconds to leap out of the way as Ultron came at him, a gleaming silver fist punching into empty air in the spot where he'd just been standing. Ultron's head swerved to the side without moving the rest of his torso.

“Adamantium weave?” he said. “How very interesting. I thought the technique was long lost.”

The Mandarin watched his opponent carefully. “The technique, yes, but adamantium itself is indestructible,” he said. And then he frowned. Why had he answered?

Ultron straightened and turned his body so that it faced the same way as his head. The Mandarin fought down the revulsion he felt watching the obviously unnatural movement. The android shot another ray of red light at him and the Mandarin activated the ring on his right middle finger, leaping into the air as he manipulated the wind vortex from the ring to propel him higher. Ultron looked up and light flared from the palms of his hands and the bottoms of his feet as he, too, shot upwards. In the air, Ultron had the advantage, not being bound by the limited manoeuvrability of the vortex, but the Mandarin's body nimbly twisted in mid-air to avoid another punch. As he twisted, he eased the power of the vortex and let himself fall a few feet until he was out of the way of a second attack.

The Mandarin had no illusions about his ability to take Ultron's punches head-on. The rings gave him incredible powers, but still he remained human despite them and, unlike the android, would eventually begin to tire. He had to end this quickly.

Sending a sudden burst of power into the vortex, he shot out towards Ultron, clenching his left hand as one of the rings began to steadily glow brighter and brighter. He paused half-way there to spin and throw his cloak in front of himself again as Ultron shot out another bright red beam. No sooner had the heat from the beam dispersed then the Mandarin pulled the cloak away and brought up his own hand. Electricity cracked in his palm, creating a buzzing, prickling sensation in his hand. And then he sent it flying at Ultron in a jagged line of bright white light.

Ultron flew to the side and the electricity made a sharp turn to follow. Red light flashed in Ultron's mouth as it hit. The Mandarin continued to increase the voltage until the android was nothing more than silver encased in electrical current. The sound that came from the android could've almost been a scream except for the lack of biological inflection. He cut the current and Ultron slumped to the ground, looking like a marionette with slashed strings.

And then Ultron straightened and cocked his head. “Was that supposed to destroy me? As you said yourself, adamantium is indestructible.”

The Mandarin gritted his teeth, but kept his face blank. He'd wondered what Ultron would be made of. That changed things. How was he supposed to defeat a tireless creature built from adamantium?! He'd know he was in for a difficult fight, but hadn't anticipated it being impossible. He hadn't planned for this – wait. But he did have a plan.

The Mandarin frowned, concentrating on the thought. On the plan. He'd spent hours planning and considering his limited information...

The punch came out of nowhere and he only just managed to twist to avoid the full blow to the chest. His right shoulder exploded with pain and he cried out, feeling himself fly backwards as he lost control of the vortex until he hit the table and went tumbling over the limp bodies of the American and Danish UWC representatives before landing on the hard, solid stone tile floor. He panted at the pain blossoming all over his back and had to bite his lip from crying out when he tried to move his left arm.

Through the haze of pain, he heard a soft click and looked up to where Ultron had landed on top of the table. Fiery red eyes stared down at him. Silently, he despaired at having underestimating his enemy after all. The pain burning through his body was unbearable. He blinked as his eyes began to lose focus and...

No. That wasn't right. This was nothing. He'd received worse punishments as a child.

“Humans are so pathetically easy to manipulate,” he heard Ultron say.

Manipulate. He latched onto that thought, chased it, forced his mind from its usual calm and into anger – anger at being manipulated. He used the pain to fuel this anger, used it to punch through the despair in his mind. Ah, his mind.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Ultron lower himself down to the floor and walk towards him.

The Mandarin clenched his left fist and concentrated on making the ring on his left ring finger glow. The brighter it glowed, the clearer his mind became, the haze of despair and confusion disappearing. Now the anger he felt was directed at himself for being so easily manipulated by a machine.

He staggered to his feet.

“Oh?” said Ultron, pausing in his tracks. “You managed to shake off my mental link? That's quite impressive. Or, I suppose I should say, that ring is rather impressive. I look forward to studying it.”

He looked at Ultron and smirked. “You won't get the chance.”

His right hand flew up and one of the rings glowed as a disintegration beam shot out. Ultron zipped up into the air to avoid the beam, red light gathering inside his mouth. It crackled like it hadn't before and the Mandarin realized Ultron was finally going to come after him in earnest. He ran towards the table, throwing himself beneath it just as a steady stream of red light erupted from the opening. With a slight push from the vortex ring, he pushed the table over and used it as cover. The tabletop cracked under the intensity of the beam, but held – making him wonder what exactly it was made of.

As soon as the beam stopped, the Mandarin leapt to his feet, nearly whiting out from the pain as he used his right hand to force his left hand up. He held onto consciousness with every inch of willpower he could muster and concentrated on nothing but the ring on his pinky finger. This ring's power at full force wasn't a blast like many of the other rings, it was a gradual shifting, a gentle slide. Until it wasn't.

Dimly, he heard Ultron laughing, an irritatingly flat, mechanical laughter. And gradually, the laughter, the mocking, slowed. He saw Ultron land and begin walking towards him, noticed his steps falter and begin to slow. The Mandarin was panting heavily by the end, his lip bleeding from where he'd bitten at it to stop himself from screaming. The optical eyes in Ultron's head flickered a few times before they went still. All of the diabolical red light died and still the Mandarin persisted, knowing it wasn't quite enough yet.

Finally, when he'd squeezed every once of power out of the ring, he stopped, letting its glow die. This time, he didn't stop the cry of pain as he carefully lowered his left arm until it was limp at his side once again. He took a few moments to compose himself again and walked over to Ultron's form. Frosted white and still, the cold emanating from it hurt his skin as he got closer.

“Adamantium is indestructible, yes,” he said out loud, despite knowing his audience couldn't hear him. “But _everything_ freezes at absolute zero.”

He raised his right hand, the scales protecting him from the worst of the cold. One ring glowed and Ultron's frozen form was flung across the room with such force that the wall dented under the blow and the frozen metal body shattered on impact.

The Mandarin walked over to the still-intact head and raised his electric metal rod. He tightened his grip and jabbed the rod into the back of Ultron's neck, holding it down as the electricity crackled and fizzed inside. The thick wires, made brittle through freezing and rapid thawing, snapped and he kicked the android's torso away.

He stood there panting for a few minutes, leaning on his rod weapon to keep himself upright, because he knew if he collapsed now he wouldn't be standing again anytime soon. As he stood there, staring at the lifeless head of what was once the Head of the United World Council, he noticed a small round symbol stamped onto the inside. He frowned and picked it up.

It was an older version than he was used to, yet the small logo was instantly recognizable: Stark Industries.

He took a deep breath, burying his anger deep into his mind where it wouldn't interfere until it was needed. The United World Council was gone, but he had much to do still before he could be sure that no government would ever threaten him again. And as he'd told Ultron, with no one alive capable of opposing him, it made his plans that much easier.

The world had grown too complacent, too dependent on an overarching military power. It had become weak.


	7. Chapter 6

He wasn't entirely sure what he was working on anymore. He remembered talking to Pepper, showing her several different schematics and then nodding along as she talked about the possibilities of each one for the business. At some point he'd started working on them – all of them, because it was the easiest way to tell which one could be viable the fastest. Then there was science. Yes, Tony definitely remembered the science and numbers. Jarvis had helped with that too. Apparently Jarvis had often helped Anthony Stark with calculations he didn't have time to do. The cheater.

The contraption sitting on the table in front of him was definitely too big to be the necklace he'd been working on. He looked to the side. Ah yes, there it was: he was waiting for the newest pigment on the crystal dome to set. Before he could even begin to construct an optic eye and memory interface small enough to fit inside the 'jewel', he needed to come up with a two-way glass that was colourful and slightly opaque from one side and clear enough to take pictures with on the other.

That still didn't help him figure out what the contraption in front of him was. Which was a problem, because he just couldn't get the parts to work together and it would've helped if he knew what they were supposed to do once they were fitted properly. He set his wrench down onto his workbench and carefully flipped the mess of metal, silicon crystal and wiring over. The components blurred together and he blinked his burning eyes.

The yawn took him by surprise. He picked up his coffee mug and whined when he saw it was empty.

“Jarvis,” he said. “Tell Vision to make more coffee.”

_“Sir, perhaps instead you should consider going to bed.”_

“Nonsense, Jarvis! I'm only just getting started!” He blinked and frowned. “What time is it anyway?”

_“It is quarter past seven in the evening, sir.”_

“Really? That's it?! It's not even time for little kids to go to bed yet, Jarvis. Pepper only left a few hours ago, geez.”

_“That was two days ago, sir.”_

He paused. “Oh. Okay, that actually makes more sense. Still, I'll go to sleep when I'm tired and I'm not tired yet.” He paused to yawn. “Nope, there is still science to be done, Jarvis.”

Tony looked back to the contraption spread out on the bench in front of him and tilted it to the side a bit.

“Aha!” he exclaimed as he realized he was looking at a much smaller version of the wheel-less hover system.

He grinned. This was something he'd been working on for a while on-screen. The wheel-less were great and certainly smoother and more maneuverable than the awkward four-wheeled cars they'd replaced, but the mechanism that allowed them to hover the way they did was too large to use for anything smaller. Oh sure, there'd been attempts at building one-person wheel-less bikes, but those were either so big they ended up only slightly smaller than the wheel-less or else slow and inefficient, constantly needing to be recharged.

Creating a smaller, lighter-weight system would revolutionize personal transportation and put Stark Industries back into the forefront of technological innovation, where it belonged. And Pepper had loved the idea, which was a bonus. He just had to get the hover system, motor and battery to work in efficient tandem on a small enough scale and still be able to hold up at least three hundred pounds – and preferably four or five hundred.

He sighed and ran a hand over the silicon wiring.

_“Sir, if I may, the science will be here in the morning. However you are no longer at peak efficiency. I strongly recommend at least seven hours of sleep, preferably preceded by food.”_

“I'm fine, Jarvis. You worry too much. Did you nag the great Anthony Stark like this too?”

_“Indeed I did. Master Anthony was, I dare say, even worse at taking care of himself than you are proving to be. Thankfully at the time I had others to help.”_

“Ha! I can take care of myself just fine, Jarvis.”

Tony reached down to pick up his wrench as he carefully angled the soon-to-be hover system. There was a lot more work to be done and sleep was only a poor substitute for coffee anyhow.

“Just get Vision to bring me down more coffee and I'll be even more fine.”

_“Very well, sir, if you insist. I will, however, have him add a sandwich to that order as you have not yet eaten today either.”_

“Yes, fine, whatever.”

Bending over to get a better look at the wiring and how it connected, he realized the couplings looked much too loose. Careful so as not to disrupt any of the other pieces, he reached in with his wrench to turn the delicate bolts tighter against the metal backing. He twisted his back to get a better view at the bolt when he failed to grab hold of it properly.

He froze and straightened, pulling himself and his hand away from the contraption he was building. Then he blinked, staring at the screwdriver in his hand.

He looked down at the workbench. And back to the tool in his hand. It was still a screwdriver. He looked around the lab, finally locating his wrench on a table next to the e-board by the far wall. He blinked at it in bewilderment.

“Uh, you know what, Jarvis,” he heard himself say. “I think maybe I will head off to bed after all.”

_“An excellent decision, sir.”_

And so Tony put down the screwdriver, covered his projects with an industrial tarp and shut everything down. He yawned loudly as he looked around one last time. Suddenly he really did feel incredibly tired and wasn't actually sure he was capable of eating that sandwich without falling asleep onto his plate.

Shaking his head against fatigue, he walked out of the lab and headed for the kitchen. The lights turned off automatically behind him.

The lab wasn't completely dark: dozens of small lights from various tools and machines cast sharp pinpricks of light into the darkness. There was silence as Tony's footsteps grew fainter and fainter, until they could no longer be heard.

 _“Thank you,”_ said Jarvis quietly into the empty lab.

For a moment nothing happened. And then a blue smiley face appeared on the e-board.

 

* * *

 

“Oh wow, you've still got this on a key lock?” Janet Van Dyne exclaimed as she watched Pepper take out the old metal key and fit it into the keyhole. “That's adorable!”

Pepper smiled. “For now,” she told her. “I'm sure once Tony has to do it himself a few times it'll change, but I sort of like the old fashioned key lock. It fits the house.”

“Oh it definitely does. If the inside matches the outside, then I know I'm going to just love it. I can't believe the Starks let this gem just sit here for so long!”

“Just wait 'till you see the ballroom and terrace; the contractors finally managed to finish paving the tiled surface and it looks amazing. It'll be just perfect for dining under the stars.”

Pepper swiped her hand over the discreet doorpad set into the wooden doorframe next to the keyhole and the door's magnetic lock hissed open. Twisting the knob, she ushered Janet first into the house.

“Oooh, I could put together a sort of 1950s themed dinner... I'll get my assistant to research what cocktails and appetizers were popular back then.”

“I could get Vision to show you the recipe book collection in the kitchen if you like,” Pepper suggested. “There might be something useful in there. Apparently there are some hand-written folders and index cards too.”

Janet's eyes lit up and she clapped her hands together excitedly. “That would be amazing, Pepper, thanks!” Her attention was momentarily taken up by the giant chandelier hanging in the foyer. “Wow, okay, that's um...”

Pepper chuckled. “Trust me, it actually looks a lot better in the evening when it's all lit up. Anyway, the ballroom's this way.”

Janet gave the giant mass of crystal and glass one last skeptical look before following Pepper. She gasped when she stepped into the ballroom. “You weren't kidding,” she said quietly, eyes wide as she walked forward, taking the room in. “This is amazing.”

Pepper could feel hope blossoming inside at Janet's reaction. It confirmed that she'd made the right decision in convincing Tony to hold the Maria Stark Foundation's Charity Gala here. She continued to watch as Janet finally noticed the glass doors and immediately made a bee-line for them, throwing them open in her haste before stepping out onto the terrace.

Moments later, she was back, practically running across the ballroom towards Pepper.

“Oh my god,” she said breathlessly as she grabbed both Pepper's hands. “Pepper, I am so incredibly happy you hired me to plan the gala again. This is going to be a blast!”

Pepper grinned. “Jan, I don't think Tony would've let me hire anyone else.”

Janet snorted and let go of Pepper's hands, waving one of her own dismissively. “Please, Tony wouldn't have noticed I _wasn't_ the one running the show until the day of, when I wasn't the one helping you pester him to the podium for a speech.”

She looked around again and sighed. “Just look at that high ceiling – I'll bet the acoustics in here are amazing too. Maybe we could get a live band to play some of the more mellow music from the twentieth century, like old-school jazz.”

Both women froze at the odd crackling noise that came out of nowhere. A few moments later, the mellow tones of brass instruments filled the air, bouncing off the walls and making it impossible to tell where it was coming from. It was slightly scratchy, like it had been recorded by someone with no experience and sub-par equipment, but it certainly showed off the room's acoustics nicely. Pepper frowned, wondering if this was Jarvis trying to make a point.

Meanwhile, Janet's jaw dropped in amazement. “How did you do that?” she asked. “Is this some sort of new invention Tony's working on?”

“Not to my knowledge...”

“Jan, this is horrible!” said Tony as he barreled into the room, clothes looking clean but disheveled and hair sticking up in several directions. There was a mug of steaming coffee in his right hand. “Seriously, I know Pepper wants to go with a 'good ol' days gone by' theme or something, but that doesn't mean we need music that _sounds_ like was recorded on crap twentieth century-quality equipment!”

“Well that answers that question,” said Janet dryly.

Tony paused in his steps to scan the room. “What question?” he asked absently and then frowned. “Where are you playing that from?”

“We're not,” said Pepper, folding her arms across her chest. “It started up on its own.”

“We thought you were doing this,” said Janet.

“Me?! Nope, definitely not.”

Tony touched the jewel on one of the six bracelets he was wearing and tapped at the holoscreen. Then he walked up to the wall and held the screen in front of him as he began to slowly walk along it.

“Uh, Tony, what are you doing?” Janet called out with a frown.

“Searching for a hidden room or wall panel or something,” said Tony, not looking up from the holoscreen. “Either Howard or Anthony – or possibly both for all I know – were apparently really big on secrets. This house is full of them. Just as soon as I think I've got this place figured out, I find something new. It's ridiculous.”

Janet turned to Pepper. “He's enjoying this, isn't he?”

Pepper smiled. “Oh yes. I'm pretty sure he'll deny it until he's blue in the face, but this is probably the most fun he's ever had.”

“Aha!”

Both women turned to see Tony grinning triumphantly at a section of the wall just beside one of the giant gilded mirrors and tapping furiously on the holoscreen. They exchanged an amused look and went over to see what he'd found. In the meantime, the instrumental song that had been playing ended and there was a pause just before rich male tones accompanied by a saxophone and strings echoed throughout the room.

“Whatcha got, Tones?” Janet asked as she plastered herself to his side in order to get a good look at the holoscreen.

“There's a door here of some sort,” Tony answered. “I'm trying to find the opening mechanism.”

Pepper walked past both of them to look more closely at the wall. Like much of the ballroom, the wall panels were made of oak wood with delicately-carved vines running along the sides of each panel. Next to the gilded mirrors the carvings went mostly unnoticed from a distance, but up close the detail was stunning. But this particular panel had a slightly more embossed boarder than any of the others...

“Tony, I think there's a handle here,” she said out loud.

Tony's head snapped up. “What, where?”

Pepper reached out and ran her hand around the area. “Right here,” she said as her fingers slipped easily into a raised area. She pulled and hinges that hadn't been used – much less oiled – in over two hundred years screeched loudly. All three of them winced.

“Ouch, my eardrums,” said Janet, leaving Tony's side to peek through the door. “Oooh, a secret staircase! Hank's going to be sorry he missed this!”

“Yeah, where is Hank anyway?” Tony asked as followed Janet and Pepper up the narrow staircase, keeping an eye out for energy signatures on his holopad scanner. “Also, are you two officially done pretending you're not a couple?”

Up ahead Janet rolled her eyes. “Hank's busy in the lab and, yes, we are officially a couple now.”

“Oh good. Congratulations. You should bring him by the next time you come over; there's something I'd actually like his opinion on.”

“I'll pass on the message.”

“Thanks.”

At the top of the staircase, they found a room. It wasn't a large room, but there was enough space for the small liquor cabinet in one corner, a wooden bistro table with two iron chairs, and a fabric chaise along the far wall that had clearly seen better days – and quite a few rodents. Off to one side stood a small wooden table with a spinning record player.

“Okaaay...” Janet started as she stared at the record player. “That's just a little bit creepy.”

Pepper walked over and took the needle off the groove. The music stopped and the record span for a few more seconds before it, too, stopped. Tony cleared his throat, the sound seeming especially loud in the sudden silence.

“So, you know how you said the house wasn't haunted...” Pepper began.

“Nope, ghosts don't make scientific sense, therefore there are no ghosts,” said Tony as he looked around the room. Suddenly he blinked. “Holy shit, this is a secret love nest!”

Even Pepper blinked. “Wait, really? I mean how the hell do you know that?”

“There's alcohol and a horizontal surface and a discreet entrance that takes you to a private area without having to worry about rooms and going half-way across the house to find them.” Tony grinned. “It's the perfect setup for sneaking away to have sex in the middle of a boring party.”

“Stark logic at its finest,” Janet noted with amusement.

“I'm getting the impression it's definitely genetic,” said Pepper, walking over to the window that overlooked the ballroom. “Huh. This is also a great observation spot.”

Janet and Tony walked over to stand beside her.

“Oh yeah, you can see the entire ballroom clearly from up here,” Janet noted. “Maybe this is where they hid the extra security guards for high-profile events? Or where Anthony Stark and his friends came so they could spy on their guests and make fun of them.”

Tony shrugged. “I still think it's a secret love nest.”

Pepper rolled her eyes. “Of course you do.”

 

* * *

 

Two days later, Jan was back with Hank in tow and about a dozen staff for set-up, but Tony didn't really care about them. They were unimportant background noise. Tony took enough time to notice their presence as Jan came over to hug him briefly before shoving Hank in his direction and telling both of them to 'go play'. Tony laughed and dragged his science buddy through the back of the house and to the labs.

“Wow, so you're saying most of this infrastructure was already in place when you moved in?” Hank asked as Tony showed him around the Science Wing, as he'd taken to calling it.

“Yep,” Tony answered, hands shoved deep into his pant pockets as he rocked back on his heels. “Don't know what sorts of experiments good ol' Anthony was running, but the entire wing is reinforced way beyond anything I've seen anywhere.”

Hank shrugged. “Maybe he was playing it safe?”

Tony raised an eyebrow. “You've read about Anthony Stark, right?”

Hank just shrugged again. “Anyway, Jan said you have something you wanted my input on?”

Tony's face brightened. “Oh yeah, follow me. I'm trying to create a necklace camera, but I'm having a hard time figuring out the right sort of pigmentation for the glass.”

“Hmm, what have you got so far?”

“Let me show you.”

And so Tony took Hank into his private lab, pulled up one of the many wheeled e-boards hanging around and the two men got to work. Jan had probably been right to call it 'playing' because while they started with coloured glass, they very quickly got off-topic and began to delve into other, completely unrelated science conundrums, including the research Hank himself was working on.

Three hours later they had two e-boards filled with notes and drawings and six different enlarged holoscreens hovering throughout the room. Hank had wheeled a third e-board over next to an enlarged image of a microscopic sample.

“...I'm calling them Pym Particles,” he said. “They're fascinating and, most importantly, they're everywhere and in everything. I've figured out how to manipulate them, but they're proving unstable. For instance, I can make an object grow, but after a few minutes the growth destabilizes, the cells begin to lose their cohesion and then things turn into, well, a gloppy mess.”

“Which is very messy to clean,” said Tony.

“Well, yes, among other things.”

“Do you think it's an energy problem?”

“No... I don't think so.” Hank frowned. “You see, manipulating them was mostly a matter of finding the right frequency and energy variant. There's not really a whole lot of actual energy required for the change to happen.”

He paused to write several equations on the e-board. Tony watched intently as he did so, tapping his lips with his right index finger.

“Do you think you maybe need to narrow the spectrum?” he finally asked, after a while.

Hank blinked and stepped back from the whiteboard, digital marker still in hand and poised for more writing. “Even more than I already have?” he said.

“Yeah... not that you're not already using a very narrow frequency on the energy spectrum, but what if the problem is that it's still not contained enough? Or, okay, so you're saying you can manipulate the particles but they destabilize quickly, so maybe you need to add a secondary frequency to actively stabilize the change.”

Hank frowned. “Oh, I see. You think that maybe I've been looking at this whole thing backwards. That the instability isn't the result of my doing anything wrong, but rather a natural state of the particles themselves, hmm... That would change things, yes.”

They carried on debating the problem, tossing ideas and theories back and forth between them and filling up more e-boards until Tony's comm bracelet buzzed. He tapped the jewel and the small projection that popped up said 'Jan'. He blinked and tapped to open the call screen.

“Jan, what's up?” he said.

_“Hey Tony! This is me reminding you two geniuses that brains need food and water to function. Hank's a biologist, he can explain it to you if you have a hard time grasping the concept.”_

“Ha, ha, very funny Janet.” Tony rolled his eyes. “So tell Vision to bring it to the lab, then.”

_“Nope, sorry, Vision's helping me with the set up. You've got two legs, you can go get it yourself.”_

She hung up, leaving Tony gaping at the now blank holoscreen.

“Wh-how-what the hell?!” he finally managed to get out. He turned to Hank. “Doesn't she have her own bio-droid?”

“Yes, but I think Pirouette is working on the catering portion of the event. Or something to do with catering anyway.”

Tony threw his hands up. “Fine! I'll go get the food!”

He ignored Hank's snickering as he stormed through the Science Wing towards the kitchen. His intention had been to find Jan and yell at her for commandeering his personal assistant, but after one look at the hive of activity that was now his foyer and front hall, he decided he wasn't quite brave enough to venture into it to find her. So, he stomped his way into the kitchen, where he found a tray piled with sandwiches and a pitcher of lemonade. He placed it onto a domestic hovercart and push it back to the lab, grumbling about the injustice of it all.

“Honey, I'm back,” he called to Hank. “And I've got food.”

Not bothering to wait for Hank, he grabbed himself a ham, swiss and jalepeño sandwich and took a bite as he wandered back over to the e-board – and froze, staring at the new set of equations on the board.

He swallowed down the food in his mouth. “Holy shit, Hank, that's fucking genius!”

Hank turned from where he was pouring himself a glass of lemonade. “Hm, oh yeah,” he said automatically. Then he froze. His jaw went slack. The lemonade filled the glass and then overflowed.

He looked down when he felt his shoe was getting wet, squawked and put the pitcher back onto the tray. With a look of despair at his sugary-wet hand and shoe, he hurried over to the e-board.

And stared some more.

“This...” he began.

“This totally fixes part of your problem,” Tony finished for him. “If your initial manipulation is destabilizing the molecules, then adding a secondary energy frequency to stabilize should fix the problem and this... this is genius.”

Hank rolled his eyes. “It is. But, how exactly would I incorporate the secondary frequency into the process?”

Eventually, Jan called Tony again to let him know she and her crew were heading out for the day and ask him to please return her boyfriend. And so, reluctantly, Tony and Hank decided to call it a day.

“Wow, thanks Tony, this has been great,” said Hank with a small, shy grin. “I should've known getting you involved would help me out of my rut.”

Tony laughed. “I don't know what you're talking about. I'd have never left you alone if I'd known you'd have revelations of genius while I was gone.”

Hank frowned. “What are you talking about?”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Hank, the equations? The proofs for the secondary frequency? Remember those?”

Tony walked a few steps more before he realized he was no longer being flanked by his friend. He stopped and turned to look back. Hank was standing in the middle of the corridor staring at Tony with a very odd expression on his face.

“Tony... you wrote those equations,” he said slowly.

Tony blinked. “Uh, nope, sure didn't. They weren't on the board when I left the room to get the food tray and then when I walked back into the room, there they were. Wait, are you saying you didn't write them?”

“I think I'd remember coming up with the formulas to solve the biggest problem with my research, Tony. I didn't see those formulas until you showed them to me.”

Tony felt his expression go blank for a moment. Then he let out a frustrated noise.

“Okay, that's it! I'm getting to the bottom of this right now!” he exclaimed as he spun around and stormed down the corridor.

Hank trotted after him.

“That little room overlooking the ballroom had no optical eyes in it,” Tony said, taking a narrow side-corridor that was nearly-invisible until he was right beside it. It led to what he and Pepper had assumed was the servants' housing. And just before the main housing area, there was a large storage cupboard.

Tony placed his palm on the doorpad next to the storage cupboard and let it scan his palm print and DNA identifier chip. The door unlocked with a hiss.

“But I definitely installed optical eyes in the lab!” he finished, swinging the door open and heading directly for the main security console.

The system was one he'd modified from Stark Tower's own security system (the new one, the one he'd designed, not the out-dated dinosaur his father had been happy to keep alive from who knows when), so it was a matter of moments to bring up the lab eye and get its history. He backed up the footage from earlier to the moment when he'd walked out of the lab to get food.

On screen Hank spent some time staring at the e-board before walking away to tinker with the blueprints he and Tony had mocked up on one of the holoscreens. It was boring, so Tony sped up the playback a bit, keeping a careful eye on the e-board. Until something suddenly moved.

He paused it and went back two frames. Screen-Hank's back was still turned to the e-board and screen-Tony was somewhere on his way to or from the kitchen.

“Holy shit,” said Hank quietly when Tony hit play.

The two of them watched as the crucial, complicated calculations started to appear on the e-board _on their own_.

“Uh, Tony,” said Hank after a while. “I think this might be the time to consider the entirely unscientific idea that this house might be haunted.”


	8. Chapter 7

Tony was going to have to send Pepper the biggest bouquet of flowers he could find. Maybe he'd just fill her entire office with flowers. And shoes. She might not actually kill him for the botanical explosion if there were shoes involved.

As usual, she'd been right and the Maria Stark Foundation Gala was a success. Tickets had sold out in two days once word got out it was going to be held at the historic Stark Manor and would feature the showing of a no-longer-lost Rembrandt. He'd had more people come up to him and gush about the beautiful location than he'd had making snide remarks about the state of Stark Industries. And while the dance floor certainly wasn't empty, there seemed to be just as many people standing around admiring the art as there were dancing.

Pepper herself looked dazzling in a floor-length green gown with jewels woven into the delicate mesh on the back. She was in her element holding court in front of the Rembrandt alongside an art expert from the MET.

“You know, Tony, I think this might just be the most successful gala the Maria Stark Foundation has ever thrown,” said a voice beside him.

He smiled and turned to Jan, who'd been flitting around all evening, alternating between making sure everything was running smoothly and showing off her graceful moves on the dance floor. Being the daughter of the owner of a large international pharmaceutical company meant that she'd spent a large part of her life at such functions and thus already knew a lot of the people present. As usual, the night ended up being part work, part social function for her. Tony knew she loved every minute.

“You and your staff have definitely outdone yourselves this year, Jan,” he said sincerely. “I mean, yes, the location is great but you've really made it shine.”

Jan smiled with a flash of teeth. “Thanks, Tony,” she said. “Trust me, spiffing this place up was an absolute pleasure. And it definitely won't hurt my business that this is clearly going to be one of the most talked-about events of the year.”

Tony laughed. Jan was fun and carefree, but she never stopped being the daughter of a businessman.

“So, where'd you lose Hank anyway?” he asked, suddenly realizing he hadn't seen his fellow scientist since dinner.

Jan waved a hand. “I left him talking to the guy from MIT about some sort of new research they're doing. I think he's here hoping to find potential donors.”

Tony frowned. “Stark Industries donates to research grants all the time. Why didn't he just send a proposal directly?”

Jan shrugged. “Maybe he doesn't think Stark Industries can handle the load right now? Or maybe his wife really wanted to come to the party and he's killing two birds with one stone. I have no idea.”

Tony craned his head to see over people's heads and locate the science group (because there would inevitably be more than just the two of them by now). Beside him, he heard Jan giggle at his obvious eagerness.

He wasn't quite sure why the couple on the dance floor caught his attention, other than the obvious fact that the woman was beautiful. But the gala was full of beautiful women. Her dress was deep blue and sparkled with gold detailing running down the skirt. It was a simple cut, highlighting the features that were already there, not designed to accent them unnecessarily. Her red hair was a deeper colour than Pepper's and flowed around her shoulders smoothly as it shined under the lights. Diamonds sparkled in her ears and around her neck.

Her partner was her complete opposite: he wasn't a large man, but he seemed to be stooped a bit, as though trying to make himself look smaller than he was. His charcoal gray suit was slightly rumpled and at least a size too big. There was a shy smile on his face as he looked at the woman from behind a pair of wire-rimmed glasses.

Their movements were comfortable, practiced – like a couple who had danced together enough times to know each other's movements well – but Tony couldn't quite tell whether the intimacy in their movements came strictly from familiarity or something more.

Most importantly, though, Tony had no idea who they were. And Tony always knew everyone at the galas.

“Jan, do you know who those two are?” he asked after watching them for a short while.

“Hm, who are you talking about?”

Tony turned to find her finishing up a whispered conversation with one of the waitstaff. He waited until she finished and then set to point the couple out. And couldn't find them.

“What the... they were just there!” he said incredulously.

“Who were just there?” Jan asked with a frown.

“That's the thing, I don't know! It was a redhead and this guy with floppy curls who looked so out-of-place it was adorable. Like a supermodel went to the nearby college and picked up the first rumpled-looking professor she found and dragged him to the gala.”

Jan laughed at the description. “Okay, whoever they are I definitely haven't seen them, but I'll keep my eyes peeled.”

As Tony continued to search for the couple, his sixth sense started tingling and he looked over to his left to see Tiberius Stone heading towards him. And his night had been going so well.

“Jan, Tiberius Stone's heading this way,” he said. “Dance with me.”

He held a hand out to her. She laughed and took it. “Oh you flatterer, you. You're lucky I'm always happy to help out a friend.”

He grinned at her and swooped her away onto the dance floor.

 

* * *

 

Tony danced, talked and smiled over the next few hours. He smiled _a lot_. His cheeks were starting to hurt from all the damned smiling, especially the forced kind. He'd even had to smile at Ty the few times his ex had succeeded in cornering him, although Tony had managed to get out of dancing with him thanks to his own quick thinking and some intervention on the part of his friends. Watching Pepper stare Ty down had probably been the highlight of his evening.

Snagging another glass of champagne from a passing waiter (he'd stopped counting after his third), Tony suddenly felt the overwhelming urge to take a break. He'd normally call it 'getting fresh air' except that the gala spilled over into the garden, where the actual seating was. The trees were covered in little lights, and larger round lights hovered over the dining area, which made for very few dark corners. With a silent thanks to the Ghosts of Stark Manor (not that Tony believed there were actually ghosts, but the phrase had a certain ring to it), Tony carefully made his way along the edges of the ballroom and then took a quick look around before slipping into the hidden passageway in the corner. Well-oiled, the hinges were blessedly silent this time.

He made sure to make as little noise as possible just in case his steps could be heard on the other side of the wall – they'd never actually tested that. Oddly enough, the narrow staircase didn't look quite as dark and lonely thanks to the light pouring in from the ballroom. The sounds were muted, but he could still hear music and people through the walls.

Tony relaxed and rolled his shoulders, allowing the stress of the evening to fall away. Sure, there weren't as many snide remarks as he'd expected, but that didn't mean he hadn't fielded questions about the company and where things were headed now that Stane had taken a chunk of his production facilities away from him along with several of Howard Stark's patented products.

It wasn't like he hadn't been stressing about it already himself. As much as he was certain that Pepper was right and they'd make it through somehow, that didn't mean it would be easy, nor did it make it any easier to cope with the dark, swirling cloud of emotions the situation brought up. For the moment he just needed some peace and quiet. He reached the top of the staircase in a much better mood. And froze.

There was already someone in the room.

The man was standing perfectly still, staring out onto the dance floor with a small smile on his face. He was blond, with wide, powerful shoulders and what looked like a rather muscular body, even if it was mostly hidden behind a boxy, badly-fitting black suit. He was, for some reason, wearing neither shoes nor socks. Tony stared at the perfectly-shaped toes that peeked out from beneath black fabric as though they could somehow make the rest of the man make sense. That the toes were just as attractive as the rest of him wasn't helping.

Tony finally took a step into the room. The man stiffened, his head snapping to the side and eyes widening when he spotted Tony. And Tony found himself mesmerized by blue eyes that somehow felt intimately familiar, though he knew he'd never seen this man in his life.

Feeling more than a little off-balance, Tony nevertheless managed to play it cool. Happy had said he'd brought in some extra security for the gala. This was probably one of his guys (it explained the suit, though not the lack of shoes). He'd told Happy about this room, right? He must have done.

“So, this is awkward,” he said. “I didn't think anyone else knew about this room up here.”

“I'm sorry, Mister Stark, I wasn't expecting anyone to come up,” said the blond.

Tony waved him off. “Nah, it's the perfect place for security. Should've occurred to me. I'm really just looking for a place to catch my breath.”

The man relaxed and smiled. It was a really nice smile, made his face look especially young and innocent despite his size and bulk.

“The party getting a bit much, is it?” he asked sympathetically.

Tony winced. “Just a bit. I mean, it's a success and I'm glad, but smiling and making nice with so many people I really couldn't care less about is tiring.”

“You were doing pretty well out there and folks sure look like they're havin' fun.” The man looked back to the dance floor. A sort of wistful sadness seemed to linger in his eyes for moment, but then he blinked and it was gone.

“Of course they are,” said Tony as he came to stand by the window. “It's a Stark party and if there's one thing Starks have always known how to do, it's throw a party. Also, the view is actually really amazing from up here.”

The blond chuckled. “Yeah, it's great for watching people. And I'm pretty sure there's a bit more to the Stark family than throwin' great parties for all the swells. I hear there's all sorts of fancy tech out there with your name on it too.”

Tony burst out laughing. “Swells? I'm not even sure I know what that means exactly. Fuck, seriously, what century did you drop in from?”

The man stayed silent and Tony winced, realizing that probably hadn't been the most tactful thing to say.

“Ah sorry, sorry, the champagne gets to my head sometimes, creates this odd phenomenon called foot-in-mouth disease. Aaand I'm suddenly noticing your hands are both empty. You're at a party which means that should be fixed immediately. Want a drink?”

The man tilted his head and looked at him from out of the corner of his eyes, looking amused. “No thank you, Mister Stark. I'm afraid I can't.”

“Aaah, right, you're on duty, working hard keeping everyone safe. Right. Well, it's not like I have any alcohol up here anyway.”

“There's a bottle of scotch beneath that lounge chair thing.”

Tony blinked and then turned to look back at the chaise. Frowning, he walked towards it and carefully got down on one knee to peek into the space underneath. His eyes widened when he saw that, yes, there really was a bottle there. He carefully reached in and pulled it out, sneezing at the dust that came out with it. Apparently, Vision's idea of a cursory clean didn't include the space underneath the furniture, which... well, okay, Tony couldn't actually find fault with that.

“Oh man, this is disgusting,” he said when he saw the caked-on dust and spider-webbing covering the bottle. He pulled out his handkerchief and cleaned it off. “Well fuck me, this is three hundred and twenty-year-old scotch!” he exclaimed when he was finally able to read the label. “I mean, it hasn't exactly been stored under the best conditions, but still – Hang on, how exactly did you know it was here?”

He looked back to the window and froze. The man was gone.

Tony rushed to the window to look out onto the dance floor, hoping to catch a glimpse of the security guard, but he couldn't find him anywhere. After the party he found Happy and took him aside.

“Okay, so first off, I'm not drunk,” he said. Happy raised an eyebrow at him and Tony grimaced. “Okay, fine, so I am drunk, but I'm not _that_ drunk. I just want to know who the tall blond security guard you had monitoring the ballroom is. Difficult to miss: tall, blond, blue eyes, looks a bit like a Greek statue of Hercules wearing a horribly-fitted suit.”

Happy frowned and Tony immediately got a bad feeling about where this conversation was going to go.

“Uh, boss, I didn't have any blond guards in the ballroom,” he said carefully. “Only blond I had working with me tonight was Jill.”

He pointed behind him to a massive-looking woman with a blonde ponytail. Admittedly, she also looked like she could've been a Greek statue, but of Athena instead of Hercules.

“Uh no, wrong Greek myth there, buddy.”

“Yeah... Uh, boss, what made you think I had a blond security guard stationed in the ballroom?”

“Well, not really in the ballroom itself, but in the small room Pepper, Jan and I found that overlooks the ballroom.” Happy looked at him with a blank face. It was mildly irritating. “We did tell you about the room, right?”

Happy slowly shook his head, clearly unimpressed.

“Okay, um, sorry about that. Must've slipped my mind. Anyway, there's a secret entrance beside one of the mirrors. I went up there to get away from everything and this big blond guy was there and we talked. Although, come to think of it, I don't think he actually said he was security. I might've just assumed that part. Anyway, I offered him a drink and he said he couldn't and then he told me there was scotch under the chaise and oooh, I can totally prove I'm not crazy because I took the bottle and gave it to Vision to save for later!”

“You gave what to Vision to save for later?” Pepper asked as she slipped in beside them.

Happy turned to her. “Apparently Tony decided to take a break from the party by going into the secret hidden room all of you _forgot to tell me about_ and met a tall blond guy there, who may or may not have indicated he was security and told Tony where to find scotch.”

Pepper winced at the mention of the hidden room. “Well at least we know he wasn't hostile, whoever he was, or Tony wouldn't be here to tell us all about it.”

A hand came to rest on his shoulder. “Hey, maybe you just met your ghost,” said Jan cheerfully as she leaned into him.

Tony rolled his eyes. “There are no such thing as ghosts, Jan. It's scientifically impossible. On a less ridiculous note, you and Hank are spending the night, right?”

“Yup. Pepper said you have guest rooms to spare.”

“I might be able to find one or two dozen of them, yeah.”

 

* * *

 

Tony was woken abruptly with a hand over his mouth. In those first few moments of sudden wakefulness, his first instinct was to thrash around as much as possible to dislodge his assailant. He blindly pushed at the body leaning over him, pulling his fists back to attempt a few feeble punches while his legs pushed at the sheets tangled around his lower torso, all the while screaming as loud as he could from under the giant mitt-hand plastered to his face.

His assailant easily caught one flailing hand and pushed it into the bed while he half climbed on top of Tony and held his torso down with his weight. Tony paused for breath and realized the man was speaking to him.

“Jesus fuck, Stark, will you just calm down and listen? We really do not have time for this right now, man!”

He sounded annoyed and Tony finally took the time to really look at him. He was African-American, with very short dark hair, his build solid and muscular, but not beefy. He was wearing a short-sleeved shirt underneath some sort of combat vest and there were dog tags dangling inches from Tony's face. Tony blinked, his mind finally overcoming his initial blind panic. Dog tags. The military hadn't used physical dog tags in well over seventy-five years. They embedded thin chips into each recruit's chest now.

Well shit.

“You done panicking?” the man above him demanded, not sounding the least bit out-of-breath. Tony nodded. “Good, then in just a moment I'm gonna remove my hands. Then you're gonna get up and you're gonna get dressed. There are intruders coming in downstairs and they're heavily armed. They've somehow managed to override your security and put some sort of weird metal brace around Vision's neck.”

Tony winced. Whoever they were, they had a bio-droid containment cast. God, he hated those things. Bio-droids didn't have an actual 'off' switch, but the casts were the closest thing to one: they instantly turned off all primary functions and placed the bio-droids into the machine equivalent of a coma. Tony knew he turned off all his other computers regularly and the fact that this particular computer had a face shouldn't matter, but he just couldn't shake the feeling of wrongness whenever he saw it. Vision was maybe not his friend as such, but he was certainly a companion.

And then the pressure from his torso disappeared and the hands holding his wrist and mouth were removed. Tony took a deep breath and sat up. And froze as his eyes took in the room. His very empty room.

“Seriously? What the ever-fucking hell?!”

He kept his voice low, not daring to trust that this was just a very vivid dream – not after everything that had happened over the past few days. Maybe he'd finally get some answers.

Dressed in the first bits of clothes he could get his hands on, he looked around the room in case his creepily helpful intruder (not to be mistaken for the less-helpful intruders that were apparently downstairs) happened to have left any other instructions. It suddenly occurred to him he should probably go warn Pepper and that thought had him scrambling towards the door.

Something hit him on the back of the head.

Tony whirled around... and noticed the air vent cover dangling open from the ceiling. He glared at it. He'd double and triple-checked this one himself. It had been sealed off. Permanently.

Someone had helpfully pulled up a chair directly below it. Tony grit his teeth as the message registered. Right, well, he supposed he could crawl over to Pepper's room to warn her. They _were_ all interconnected, after all. A part of him wondered if maybe this was why they were all interconnected. Did Anthony Stark use to get a lot of intruders?

He pulled himself up into the crawlspace with a lot more huffing and puffing than he was entirely happy with. He'd managed to pull himself most of the way up, when suddenly a hand grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled him the rest of the way. He yelped in surprise, but didn't struggle against the help.

“Pull the grate shut behind you,” a male voice whispered – very much not the same voice as the man from his room.

Tony looked up and caught a glimpse of dirty blond hair and a black sleeveless top that showed off nicely tanned, muscular arms. He carefully reached behind him and pulled up the grate – pausing only for a moment to blink at the spot below it that was conspicuously empty of chair. There was a latch on the inside and Tony secured it shut. The shaft was larger than he'd realized – not roomy exactly, but comfortable enough for a grown man to crawl through without feeling too cramped.

“Done?” the other man asked quietly. “Good, then keep up and try not to make too much noise. The vent walls are thick, but they're not sound-proof.”

It was easier said than done. The man in front of him was quick and silent, as though crawling through ventilation shafts was something he did all the time. Which it probably was. Behind him, Tony felt loud and clumsy.

“So... not that I don't appreciate you, uh, helping to save my life and all,” Tony said quietly after a few moments of silence. “Although I'm not entirely clear why I should be trusting you in the first place since you're intruders yourselves...”

The other man snorted softly. “We're not intruders. We've been here for a lot longer than you have, Stark.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “So you're what, wanting to invoke squatter's rights?”

“Nope, just sayin'.”

“Anyway, I've got to warn Pepper and–”

“–It's being handled. You're their target, so getting you out safely is the priority. Cap's orders.”

Tony frowned. Cap? Who was Cap? It was the first sort-of name he'd gotten out of any of them and it sounded a bit like it belonged to a mob boss.

He crawled behind the man for what seemed like forever. The ventilation shafts were dark, and the air got stuffier and the walls closer together the farther they went. Tony kept looking up to make sure the guy in front of him was still there. The forced silence was unnerving and gave Tony more time with his thoughts than he would've liked. Woken up from sleep, following these mysterious 'non-intruders' had seemed like the thing to do, but the longer he was awake, the less he was sure of anything. Sure, the dark-skinned guy could've obviously killed him easily enough, but how did he really know this wasn't all part of some sort of elaborate plot to get control of Stark Industries?

He wasn't sure how far they'd gone when suddenly the man in front of him paused and Tony nearly plowed right into him.

“Uh, everything alright?” he asked with a frown, noticing the man was trembling slightly and breathing heavily.

“Yeah, it's fine,” the man said before taking a deep breath. “We're gonna continue down this shaft until we reach the drop-down, then climb down three floors. Got that?”

Tony blinked. “Uh, sure. Continue to the drop and then go down three floors: easy.”

“Okay.”

The blond then resumed crawling, disappearing quickly around a bend. Tony shook his head and followed... only to find himself facing an empty ventilation shaft. He groaned, wondering if he, too, was just going to vanish one day. He continued crawling forward anyway until he reached an intersection in the system. And, yes, the ventilation system connected to both upper and lower floors of the manor.

Figuring he wasn't really in any position to argue with the ghost-like people living in his house, he reached around until he discovered handholds jutting out of the sides of the shaft. With some careful maneuvering – made easier once he remembered he still had his light-ring on – he managed to lower himself and begin climbing down. It was slow going, the ventilation shaft being completely void of any light except for that from his ring, which wasn't designed to do much more than add spot-illumination in tight spaces.

Suddenly a light shone directly into his face, making him yelp and fumble his grip. Once his eyes had adjusted, he noticed there was a vent opening right in front of his face. There was also a petite woman with long red hair crouching just inside.

“Hey!” he exclaimed quietly. “You're the woman from the gala! I saw you dancing.”

Her face was impassive, almost as void of emotion as Vision's.

“I like to dance,” she finally said. Then she turned around and disappeared into the shaft. “Come this way.”

“Well aren't you guys all just a chatty bunch,” Tony groused as he pulled himself into the ventilation shaft after her.

Whoever the woman was, she'd ditched the ballgown at some point and was now wearing skin-tight black body armour and heavy-duty boots. She moved just as silently as the blond had earlier, but there was a grace to her movements that had absolutely nothing to do with the beautifully-sculpted ass he couldn't help but stare at. Well, at least not entirely. She led him down another set of ventilation shafts, this time with more twists and forks than the ones he'd been in before. It didn't escape his notice that at no point did she need to stop and consult a map of any sort.

Even without a map of his own, Tony knew they were getting closer to the central wing, because the lingering smells from the gala were getting stronger. She'd paused in front of each grate to look out, but this time she stopped for a moment and watched. Tony shuffled in closer and, after a quick glance at him, the redhead shuffled to the side to let him see as well.

There were men moving carefully down the corridor, their bulky body armour distinctive even in the darkened hallway, as were the plasma weapons they carried. He and the woman were still and silent until they passed.

“Who are they?” Tony asked as loudly as he dared, the situation suddenly all too real.

The woman shook her head. “They look like mercenaries or private soldiers,” she offered.

At least that meant they probably weren't from the United World Council.

They finally reached a larger grate and a dead end. Tony looked out and found himself staring at the foyer. There were quite a few mercenaries milling about under the illumination of hovering light spheres, their weapons drawn. And in the centre of the group stood Obadiah Stane.

“That bastard,” Tony hissed through clenched teeth, rage instantly raising his blood to a simmer.

“You know him?”

Tony didn't take his eyes off the man, standing tall and looking smug as ever as he surveyed the house before him as though it were his. “That's Obadiah Stane, my former business partner.”

“The one who betrayed you. Hm.”

He glanced over to her. She looked pensive. There was a shuffle of movement from Tony's other side and his head snapped over his shoulder to look. It was the African-American man who'd woken him earlier. He nodded his head in greeting and then looked over Tony's shoulder.

“Sorry for the delay,” he whispered. “I got this now, Widow.”

Tony looked back to the woman to find her gone. He couldn't even bring himself to be surprised.

“Okay, what is with the disappearing?” he asked, glaring the man beside him.

The man shrugged apologetically. “Time limit,” was all he said. And then he stiffened, his eyes suddenly intent on the foyer. “Shit.”

And that was when Tony heard it too. His blood ran cold.

“Let me go, you moronic apes! If you've caused any permanent damage to him then I'll cut your balls off with a pair of nail clippers, make them into pin cushions and stuff them up your assholes!”

Despite his overwhelming anxiety, Tony couldn't help the wince. Jan was always so peppy and cheerful that it was easy to forget about this side of her. The man beside him whistled softly in appreciation.

Obie, meanwhile had begun to frown.

“Obadiah Stane, you piece of overdeveloped shit,” Jan growled when she and her abductors finally came into view. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Tony was relieved to see she looked unharmed. She was wearing a yellow silk nightie and her hair was a frazzled mess that was an odd mixture of sleeked down and sticking up in all directions. Her eyes were spiting promises of fiery death – with bonus meteors. Directly behind her, Tony saw two mercenaries dragging a dazed-looking Hank. There was a large bruise starting to blossom over much of his left eye.

“We have to do something,” Tony whispered. His heart was hammering in his chest and his throat felt like it was about to seize up as he watched.

“Not yet, Stark,” said the man soothingly. “We've gotta wait for the right time.”

“What's this?” Stane asked, looking to the mercenary holding Jan and completely ignoring her.

“Stark and Potts weren't in their rooms, sir,” the thug answered. “But we found these two in one of the guest suites.”

Tony allowed himself a small sigh of relief when he realized that the blond had been telling the truth when he said Pepper was being taken care of (although he was sure he'd be getting an earful if she'd had to crawl through the ventilation shafts too). That relief was gone all-too-soon when Obadiah finally turned his attention to Jan. She struggled in the mercenary's grip to no avail, chin thrust out defiantly as Obie came closer.

“Ms Van Dyne, a pleasure to see you again,” he said smoothly and with a smile that might've had a chance to look grandfatherly under any other circumstances.

“Can't say the same, Stane,” she growled back. “Now what the hell do you want?”

“From you? Nothing. I came to speak to Tony. I really am very sorry for all this, but you see it wouldn't have been necessary at all if Tony had only danced with Tiberius earlier at the gala. Tiberius would've slipped him the slow-acting poison and none of this needed to have taken place.”

Tony's eyes widened, his heart stopping for a moment. He'd wondered why Ty was being so persistent about dancing with him.

Down in the foyer, Janet looked just as shocked. “You bastard. It wasn't enough for you to steal parts of his company? You'd stoop to murder as well?”

The smile slid off Obadiah's face. “I had a carefully-crafted plan and that spoiled brat ruined it, but I hardly need to explain myself to you.”

Instead, he grabbed a voice amplifying device out of his pocket and spoke into it.

**_“Tony, dear boy, I know you can hear me. So wherever you are, wherever you've managed to hide from my men, know this: I have your lovely friend Janet and her boytoy here in the foyer and if you don't turn yourself in to me in the next minute, I'm going to kill one of them!”_ **

Tony barely stopped to think about what he was doing, his hands flying to undo the latch on the vent.

“Stark, don't even think about it. There's a plan; we're not going to let them get hurt.” A hand grabbed his arm and pulled him away from the latch, but Tony shrugged him off and threw the vent open. “God dammit, Stark!”

“Wait!” Tony called out as he slid out of the vent and landed awkwardly on the floor. The landing jarred his knees and he stumbled, but managed to right himself and put both hands in front of him to show that he wasn't armed. “Wait, Obie, I'm right here! Don't hurt them.”

There was a loud shuffle as the mercenaries all turned to point their weapons at him. Stane turned much more slowly, his smirk malicious and gloating.

“Ah, there you are!” he said, his eyes sliding up to the vent. “How lovely of you to join us, Tony.”

Tony took a deep breath and flashed his best paparazzi smile even as he heard several armed men come up behind him. “Well, with such compelling incentives, how could I refuse?”

“Indeed,” Stane drawled. He snorted softly. “You're too sentimental to be a good businessman, Tony. But don't feel bad. That's been the problem of every Stark down the line: their heads constantly in the clouds, drunk on either liquor or science, with little room left for business. You see, I studied Stark Industries quite thoroughly before I applied for the job at the company and one thing that became immediately clear was that the company wasn't successful because of family genius. I mean, sure having geniuses running the company meant that the products were always innovative and one step ahead of everyone else, but behind every genius was a ruthless businessman or woman.”

Tony felt the smile slip off his face. “Except you couldn't just be happy with being the businessman behind the brain,” he pointed out, feeling angry on behalf of his dead relatives. “You wanted a cut of it for yourself.”

Stane spread his arms out. “And why not? The company was only doing as well as it was because of my efforts, so why shouldn't I take part of that pie for myself?”

“Uh, because it wasn't yours to take?” said Janet angrily. “Try the words 'illegal' and 'immoral' on for size. I'm pretty sure they'll fit.”

Obie struck out like a flash, backhanding Jan across the mouth. She cried out as her head snapped to the side.

“Jan!” Tony cried out, struggling violently as strong hands grabbed at him to keep him from rushing forward to help her. The action also seemed to have roused Hank out of whatever stupor he'd been in and suddenly he was rushing forward and flinging himself onto one of the guards.

Tony kicked at one of the guys behind him. He felt his foot connect, but all he heard was a soft grunt in response. The answering strike to the side of the head had him seeing stars and a hard punch to the side of his abdomen had him hunching over and coughing painfully. Something was thrown at his feet. And then another something.

“You two... ha... alright?” he wheezed at Jan, who had immediately risen to her knees to check on Hank.

“Hank took a pretty bad hit earlier, but he should be fine as long as we can get him to a doctor ,” she said and then looked up. “How 'bout you?”

“Been better.”

A shadow fell over them. “Now then Tony, where's the ever-efficient Ms Potts?”

Tony blinked and looked up. “Pepper?” he said, thinking quickly. “I don't know. She's not here. She, uh, got a call from her dad saying that her mom's in the hospital, so she left. Suddenly.”

Obadiah's eyes narrowed. “You're lying, Tony. We've been watching the house all night and no one's gone in or out.”

Shit. He shrugged. “Well, I really don't know where she is. There are so many corridors in this house; she could be anywhere.”

That was actually the complete and utter truth.

Obadiah stared at Tony for a few more seconds before turning to one of the mercenaries. “Search the air vents,” he ordered.

“Yes, sir.”

Then Obadiah stepped away and walked over to a small case sitting on the ground.

“Well, while my men search for Ms Potts, you're going to sign a few documents for me,” he said. “They're dated last week, of course – a simple thing to arrange if you know the right people – and include you signing Stark Industries over to the oversight of the United World Council in exchange for expansion privileges.”

Tony's eyes widened. Was the United World Council really involved or was this another scheme by Obie to get Tony under his control?

“Forget it, Stane, I'm not going to sign anything,” he growled.

“Oh yes you will, my boy,” said Stane pleasantly. “Remember I have some very compelling incentives for you to do so.”

Fuck. He couldn't put Jan and Hank in any more danger.

“Not that it will really matter in the end as I can hardly leave witnesses behind. But I can make their deaths as easy or as drawn-out and painful as you need me to.”

Tony closed his eyes, defeat tasting bitter on his tongue. Dammit, wasn't there supposed to be a plan in place or something? The guy in the vent said so and right now, Tony was willing to start believing in ghosts if it meant his friends would make it out of this mess alive.

In the silence of the room, Tony just barely heard two impacts and a strangled cry behind him. He opened his eyes and then stared in amazement as the two mercenaries behind him fell forwards, arrows sticking out of their throats. He saw a flash of red hair out of the corner of his eye and looked to his right. One of the smooth marble pedestals beneath the statue of a nymph was marred with words written in bright red lipstick:

_Protocol Pandora_

Tony frowned, absently aware of Stane frantically looking around and ordering his men to search for the assailant. What hell was Protocol Pandora? What the fuck use was a message he didn't understand?! It wasn't like he had anyone to ask – wait. Oh of course... Tony realized, _he_ didn't need to know what Protocol Pandora was.

“Jarvis!” he called loudly, looking upwards to the optical eyes in the chandelier. “Activate Protocol Pandora!”

There was a pause.

_“Command accepted. Protocol Pandora activated. I suggest you move back, sir.”_

And then Tony watched in astonishment as the entire house went insane.

Baseboards along the length of the foyer slid upwards and dozens of six-legged, crab-shaped robots the size of dessert plates scuttled out. They seemed to take a few moments to get their bearings, during which the small antennae at the front of their flat bodies swiveled back and forth furiously, before they proceeded to swarm the intruders. Panicked, the mercenaries immediately began to fire upon them, but the crab-robots were surprisingly quick to move out of the way. Once out of the way of enemy fire, they then demonstrated a second ability by angling their torsos upwards and firing their own little red laser beams.

“T'ny?” Hank suddenly slurred. Tony and Jan both looked down at him. He ignored their worried looks and pointed upwards. “Is just me or is th' light thing m'ving?”

“Uh...” Tony looked up.

The chandelier itself wasn't actually moving, but the centre part was extending downwards, a single round crystal on the end swaying at the motion. There appeared to be three nozzles just above the crystal.

“I'm not going crazy, chandeliers don't usually do that, right?” said Jan.

“Uh, not to my knowledge,” said Tony. “Maybe we should take Jarvis' advice and move further back.”

“Later, you'll explain who Jarvis is. Right now, I think that's an excellent plan.”

They each grabbed an arm and dragged Hank with them to the doorway. No sooner had they done this than the centre part of the chandelier began to spin, distributing a thick layer of gas into the foyer. Apparently the three of them had been the only ones to see the chandelier centre extending, because both Obadiah and his mercenaries seemed to be taken by surprise.

A fan coming on above their heads startled Tony and he looked up to see that one had, in fact, dropped down from the ceiling above them and was fanning the gas away from them and back towards the intruders. Tony certainly appreciated it.

One by one, the intruders dropped to the floor. Even through the haze of gas, Tony was fairly certain they were still breathing. After the last one had fallen unconscious, the air ventilation system automatically kicked in – proving that the vents weren't just there to provide convenient crawlspaces for crazy disappearing people.

One crab-robot scuttled towards them. Tony watched its progress with trepidation. It stopped just in front of them, its little antennae swirling back and forth. Then it stilled and a small hatch on its back slid open. Tony held his breath and prepared to leap out of the way. A small golden flag with red lettering popped out of the back. It read: 'Stark Rulz!'

The flag retracted after several, long moments and the crab-robot scuttled back to the others.

A bundle of plastic zip-ties fell to the ground where the flag-bearing, smug-bot had been. Tony looked up and saw the blond from the vent shafts smirk and give him a lazy, two-fingered salute before disappearing out of sight.

“So,” said Jan. He turned to look at her. “I guess you're going to tell me you had no idea your house did this?”

“Nope, not a fucking clue.”


	9. Chapter 8

The front door banged open. “I leave you alone for a minute! Seriously, Tony, how the fuck do you manage to get yourself into these messes?!”

Tony jumped at the unexpectedly loud voice and his head shot up, muscles immediately tensing for flight even as part of his brain recognized the voice. Zip tie clenched in his right fist, he watched wide-eyed as James Rhodes, looking all dashing and competent in his police uniform, walked into the foyer and took in the view.

Rhodey's eyes widened. “Shit, Tony, are you alright?” he asked, hurrying over to his side. Several more cops came in after him, their eyes immediately scanning the room, though their eyes were shining with a bit more awe. He saw one of them notice Jan off to the side, where she was tending to Hank and promptly hurry over to help her. Good.

“R-Rhodey?” Tony finally managed to get out. “What are you doing here?”

It wasn't that he wasn't happy to see Rhodey. In fact, he could feel some of his muscles relaxing as his best friend came closer. But he was sure they hadn't gotten around to calling the police yet.

“Someone called about twenty minutes ago to report a home invasion at Stark Manor,” Rhodey answered. His eyes narrowed at Tony. “I take it from the look on your face it wasn't you.”

“Uh, no, I hadn't gotten around to it yet. We wanted to tie these guys up first... I'm not sure how many more are in the house. I'm, uh, not sure where Pepper is, though, so it could've been her.”

Rhodey's eyes widened. “Wait, there might be more of them? Tony why are you still _in_ the house then?!”

Tony gestured at the unconscious group spread out over the floor. “The house apparently does an excellent job of protecting itself. Besides, there could've been more of them outside.”

Not that he'd even thought of that possibility before this very moment, but it was a good enough reason as any to stay inside. By the look on Rhodey's face, though, Tony could tell he wasn't buying it. Sometimes having best friends you'd known since forever (or college, which was almost forever) was slightly irritating.

Instead of arguing further, however, Rhodey turned to the other police officers. “Morse, Hunter, take your teams and search the house. According to Stark there may be more of them inside. I'll secure this area.”

“And look for Pepper!” Tony added suddenly. He looked to his friend, cursing the panic that was suddenly coursing through his veins and making him jittery. “Pep's still in there somewhere. I haven't seen her, but I know Stane's goons couldn't find her.”

Rhodey nodded and looked to the other officers. Two of them nodded solemnly and then drew their weapons and headed off. Tony could see them split up at the stairwell, half the group heading towards the back and the other half up the stairs. Then Rhodey looked over to where Jan and Hank were being looked over by a police medic.

“How's he doing?” he called out.

The officer looking Hank over looked up. “He'll be fine,” the man said with a bright smile. “Possible concussion. I've called an ambulance.”

Rhodey nodded then finally turned back to him. “Alright, Tony, why don't you start from the beginning? Stane?”

Tony shrugged, too tired to keep the bitterness from his voice. “Apparently he was pissed that I'd disrupted his plans.”

“And he figured that, what, killing you after you'd just divorced him from Stark Industries wouldn't look at all suspicious? Don't answer that, Tony, it was rhetorical. What you can answer me, however, is how exactly the three of you managed to knock out all of Stane's men.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “I already told you – it's the house's defence systems. You know Howard and Anthony Stark built this house, right? Well apparently the two of them were completely paranoid and there are a lot – and I seriously mean _a lot_ – of stuff they didn't put into the official building plans. It's like, just as I finally think I've got this house figured out, it finds something new to throw at me. And this time it was laser-shooting crab robots that crawled out of the baseboards. Oh and knock-out gas that came out of the chandelier.”

Rhodey blinked down at him. “I don't even know where to start with that one.” He took his cap off and ran a hand through his hair. “That sounds like something out of a movie. One of those Bond movies from the twentieth century.”

“I was thinking _Mission Impossible_ , actually. Oh, and the best part is that apparently the house is haunted too, except that of course I'm a scientist therefore I don't believe in ghosts which means there has to be another explanation for the random helpful people who disappear into thin air when your back is turned, but I have zip, zero idea what it could be.”

“Oh, of course the house is haunted. Why not?”

“And I think ol' great, great, great something-or-other Anthony had, like, assassins or something living in the house, 'cause I keep finding weapons stashes all over the place. Okay, two places, but one of them nearly skewered me when it fell out of the ceiling. Say, I've been meaning to ask you: is it considered illegal possession if I didn't know I possessed it?”

Now Rhodey was just plain staring at him. Tony twitched and looked to the side... to check on how Jan and Hank were doing, obviously.

“Sir!”

“Oh thank god,” Rhodey muttered as he turned to look to the top of the staircase, from where a subordinate was calling for him. “What is it?”

“You were right, there were others, but uh...” The woman paused, looking unsure for a moment. “Maybe you should just come see for yourself, sir.”

“Be there in a sec!” He turned back to Tony. “You'll be okay?” he asked him.

Tony nodded and watched him bound up the stairs. After a little while, he stood to get out of the way as several more police officers came to take the mercenaries away. He may have stepped on Stane's hand as he walked towards Jan and Hank, but that was a complete accident.

“How are you guys doing?” he asked quietly when he reached their side.

Hank looked up at him, his eyes much more focused than they'd been earlier. “Concussion,” he said. “Ambulance is on the way.”

Jan's smile looked just a bit brittle as she looked up at him. “Been better, but we'll be fine.” Then her eyes turned sharp. “Now you wanna explain what that crazy security system was about?”

Tony shook his head and then pointed towards the marble pedestal where the words in red lipstick still stood out. “I got help,” he said. “I had no idea the house could do this.”

Jan gaped at the words. “Holy shit, seriously? You're actually telling me this ghost thing is real?!”

“No. There are no such thing as ghosts. There are some people with some strange ability to appear and disappear at will, but they are clearly not ghosts, because there's no such thing.”

Hank chuckled weakly. “Tony, you're a scientist; you've seen the empirical evidence. There's really only one possible conclusion: ghosts are somehow real and they're living in your manor.”

Tony glared at him. Hank just shrugged. Jan looked between them in amusement. Then something behind him caught her eye and she gasped.

“Pepper!”

Tony spun around, the last bit of tension evaporating from his shoulders when he spotted Pepper at the mouth of the corridor that led to the kitchen. She looked less perfect than usual, with her hair tied back into a messy ponytail and fluffy white kitten slippers on her feet (a gift from Tony for her permanent guest room), but every button was done up on her dark pink silk pyjamas, with not a crease to be seen.

He grinned widely. “Pep! Good to see you in one piece!”

Pepper looked to them and smiled with relief. The kitten faces bounced adorably as she padded over to them.

“Oh thank god you're okay!” she said and threw her arms around each of them in turn. “I was so scared! I had no idea what was going on until Jarvis told me it was over and I could come out.”

Jan frowned. “Okay, it's later now. So, who's Jarvis?”

Pepper winced and looked to Tony. He hesitated for a moment. “Uh, ask me again sometime when there aren't quite so many police officers around,” he said. He quickly backtracked when he saw her expression. “Not that he's involved in anything illegal. Or that I am. It's just... complicated and I'd rather not make this night any longer than it already is.”

Jan folded her arms across her chest. “Okay, fine, I'll give you that much. But I'm not forgetting.”

“Got it. And I will explain, just later. Now, Pepper, Pep, Pepperoni...”

_“Tony.”_

“Sorry, I'm just really happy to see the mystery man in the air ducts wasn't lying. How did you avoid Stane's goons anyway?”

She froze. Her voice, when she finally spoke was low and calm. The sort of calm she only achieved when she was well and truly furious. “This was Obadiah Stane's doing?!”

“Yes, we got the dubious pleasure of seeing him in person,” said Jan darkly.

“And Jan was brilliant as always. Seriously, do you want to take my place at my next investor's meeting?”

“No.”

“Pity.”

Pepper, meanwhile, was rolling her eyes at him. “I'm pretty sure your big blond not-security-guard saved me,” she said. Then she smirked. “His name's Steve, by the way.”

Tony's eyebrows rose. “Really? Steve? Huh.”

“Yup. He woke me up, told me there were intruders and then politely turned around while I got dressed – it was sort of adorable. Then he led me to the service elevator that, it turns out, is just down the hall from my room, helped me climb in and gave me directions on how to find the nuclear bunker Howard Stark built during the Cold War. So I hid there.”

Tony's eyes had, by now widened considerably. “I have a nuclear bunker. Okay then. I swear I will eventually stop being surprised by this house.”

Jan snorted. “Not likely.”

“Now we know where to come hide if nuclear war starts up again,” said Hank.

Tony blinked. “Again? Was there a first nuclear war I somehow missed? I know I had a history teacher once who claimed parts of history had been purposefully re-written, but somehow I don't think it's actually possible to hide a nuclear war.”

Hank frowned. “Uhh...”

Jan put her arms around him. “Tony leave him alone, he's got a concussion.” She smiled up at him lovingly. “He tried to protect me from the assholes who broke into our room and got himself butted in the head with a plasma rifle.”

The conversation – such as it was – was derailed when they all turned to watch Rhodey walk down the stairs. He had a perplexed expression, looking somewhere between amused and irritated.

“So Tony, these ghosts of yours...” he began. “Are they ninjas by any chance?”

“Uhh, I didn't ask?” Tony replied. “But, sure probably, why?”

Rhodey shook his head. “Because there's something like twenty armed mercenaries in the upstairs floors and they're all out. Most of them are still alive, but there seems to be quite a few injuries. Targeted injuries: the sort done by people who know what they're doing. Some will need reconstructive surgery if they're ever going to eat anything that doesn't fit through a straw.”

“Well damn. I mean, I suppose at least one of the ones I saw tonight looked like he was decked out in old-school military duds. And two of the others were wearing what I'd guess was probably body armour of some sorts.”

“You're really lucky they seem to like you,” said Janet.

Tony froze, but didn't get the chance to reply as the front doors opened to admit a paramedic team. Jan went with Hank to the hospital and as the ambulance took off, the first of the press vans arrived.

 

* * *

 

It was nearly dawn when Tony stumbled into the library. Rhodey and the US Police, New York Detachment had finally left only moments ago and Tony desperately needed something stiff and burning. Between the police, the media and his own emerging hangover, he just wanted to down a bottle of scotch and sleep for a week.

He aimed directly for the liquor cabinet hidden in the far right corner of the room, for once truly appreciating his predecessors' foresight in hiding liquor cabinets all over the house. He looked out the window as he drank his first glass, taking notice of how the sky was lightening. He sighed. Only a single night had passed and yet it felt like the gala had happened a long time ago.

Events of the night replayed themselves in his mind and his hand shook with remembered fear. Especially the look on Vision's face when the police had brought in the magnetic key for the containment cast and unlocked it. Tony could've sworn there'd been genuine terror in the bio-droid's eyes for a few moments, before it was replaced with his usual dull expression.

He poured himself a second glass and held it to his lips.

“I'm glad you're alright.”

He startled and chocked on his drink. He turned with eyes still watering from the scotch. The blond man standing in the middle of the library looking amused was instantly familiar. Only this time he was wearing some sort of dark blue skin tight body armour with a white star in the middle of his chest. It left very little to the imagination and Tony definitely liked it better than the ill-fitting suit he'd been wearing earlier. He was standing behind a leather sofa, so Tony couldn't tell if he'd managed to find shoes this time.

“Yeah, I'm kinda glad I'm alright too,” Tony managed to finally get out. He smiled at the other man. “I apparently have some helpful squatters on the premises.”

The blond man grinned and Tony felt his breath catch. Already handsome in every way, the smile lit up the man's face and made him look carefree and inviting.

“Well, we try,” he quipped.

Tony cleared his throat. “Uh, so I hear I have you to thank for getting Pepper to safety – and for the knowledge of the location of the nuclear bunker in the basement, not that I actually think I needed to know that, but it helped keep Pepper safe... So, um, thanks, Steve.”

Steve nodded. “You're welcome, Mister Stark. Ms Potts did most of it herself, though, I just pointed her in the right direction.”

“Okay, none of that. If you're going to be haunting my house, I insist you call me Tony. Not that I actually believe you're all ghosts. I haven't quite figured out what you are yet, but ghosts don't exist, ergo, you can't be ghosts and I'm going to prove it.”

Steve laughed, a deep melodious sound that made Tony smile. “Well, you're a Stark. If anyone can do that, then it'll be you.”

Tony frowned. He'd actually expected Steve to deny being a ghost. Which meant he either wanted to perpetuate the myth a bit longer, or believed it to be true himself.

“So, how many of you are there, anyway?” Tony asked after a pause.

“Six. You met Sam, Clint and Natasha earlier this evening and then there's Bruce and Thor. Plus me, of course.”

“Of course.” Tony eyed him carefully for a moment. He looked corporeal enough and the room didn't feel any cooler than usual. “And you think you're ghosts?”

“What else could we be?” he said with a shrug and then looked towards one of the windows wistfully. “We can't keep a physical form for very long, but can move things if we concentrate when we're invisible. We also can't leave the house – and we've tried, believe me we've tried.”

“Do you remember dying?”

Steve frowned and looked at Tony. “No. It's... it's strange, because none of us remember that part. It was like we all just suddenly woke up dead to the rest of the world. I mean, I woulda thought that part would be memorable, but it's not like we've been able to go out and find other ghosts to compare experiences with. We could always see each other and touch each other, but we weren't able to effect rest of the world at all, at first. Anthony ran himself ragged trying to find us, and we couldn't find a way to tell him we were right here. It wasn't until much later that we gained the ability to appear corporeally for a short time.”

Tony frowned. “Wait, so you all lived here with Anthony Stark and then somehow died without him knowing? That makes absolutely zero sense.”

Steve shrugged. “We lived strange lives and had powerful enemies. Besides, he wasn't physically in the house at the time.”

“Uh huh. Sure. I still don't believe in ghosts. In fact, for all I know, you're just a very advanced hologram with a corrupted data set and not real at all.”

“I can promise you I'm very real,” said Steve, his eyes narrowing.

“Well you _would_ say that, wouldn't you, Stevie?”

The blond froze and his jaw clenched, blue eyes boring into Tony like furious blue laser beams. Tony's throat was suddenly dry. He couldn't bring himself to look away from those intense blue eyes.

“Don't call me Stevie,” Steve said in a low voice that rumbled with danger. Tony fought to keep himself from outwardly reacting as the tone curled low in his belly and caused his cock to stir.

Tony brought his glass up to his lips, letting the scotch wet his parched throat and using the motion as an excuse to look away from those eyes. Those very familiar intense, blue eyes. He was certain he hadn't seen Steve before the party, but he'd been seeing those eyes in his dreams for weeks.

When he looked back, he wasn't surprised to find the library empty again.

 

* * *

 

The Mandarin opened his eyes.

His mind was clear, his soul at peace, and his body rested. Before his eyes lay a glorious expanse of clouds, white and pure like the softest lamb's wool. From between the clouds, rays of light stole into the white sanctuary, revealing little patches of bright blue sky. Beneath him, the floor was cool but not uncomfortably so; the woven mat he sat on provided all the warmth he needed. All around him he heard the humming of the ship, a constant noise that had become a friend to him, its steady beat a sign that all was well.

And on his hands, he could feel the comforting weight of the rings and hear their familiar whisperings.

He stood in one fluid motion and turned away from the observation deck. It was the perfect place for meditation, but now he was needed elsewhere. His mind was full of the knowledge gleaned from the United World Council's database. The Council had insisted all major cities log their security protocols with them. And now they were his, along with the unadulterated account of the world's history.

Humans truly were stupid.

The robot came to life as he passed it and turned to follow. It had to duck to get out of the room, but that hardly made it pause. They continued to the bridge where Mei, his second-in-command, was urgently rushing between consoles. She looked up when the doors slid open and smiled. As always, her smile was warm and kind and he couldn't not smile back at her, though his lacked the warmth of hers. She never seemed to mind.

“The last of the supplies are on-board, sir,” she informed him. In private she called him by his name, as she had ever since they'd been children, but in front of the crew she only ever called him 'sir'. “We're just in the middle of final systems checks.”

He nodded to her, happy to hear things were proceeding smoothly. “And the City?”

“Not a creature left stirring. Saoh set the autopilot to head towards the United States, so it should be at least several days before someone discovers it.”

“Good. Then once the systems checks are complete we will begin. By the time they discover that the United World Council has fallen, it will be far too late.”


	10. Chapter 9

Pepper Potts warily let herself into the house. The hammering and cursing could be heard from outside – the tone of voice instantly familiar. As a result, she wasn't entirely sure she wanted to know what the foyer now looked like.

She breathed a sigh of relief when she stepped inside: it wasn't quite as bad as she'd been afraid of, and while the once-shiny hardwood floor was now covered in bits of plaster, wood and drywall, most of the floor and walls were in one piece. It seemed Tony had opted to tear apart only the bottom part of one section of the wall by the stairs. The man himself had stopped hammering and was now lying on his stomach, only his bottom half showing.

She sighed and wondered if she should just book a contractor to come fix this sometime next week. It certainly wouldn't be the strangest repair she'd ever asked them to do. The contractor she always went with had stopped blinking and looking surprised at her requests ages ago.

_“Good afternoon, Ms Potts. I'm afraid Mister Stark is rather preoccupied at the moment.”_

“I can see that,” she said dryly. “Has he been at this long?”

_“Since yesterday evening. He gave up on looking through the schematics in my database at 8:23 pm.”_

She rolled her eyes, not at all surprised. “Tony?” she called loudly. There was no response, so she gently kicked at his foot. “Tony?!”

Tony visibly stilled and then, after a moment's pause, she faintly heard something that could've been a yelled reply, probably something along the lines of 'Just a minute!'. So, she stood back, crossing her arms as she waited. Footsteps alerted her to someone approaching and she turned to find Vision with a tray of coffee and sandwiches. There was even a plate of scones.

“Hello, Vision,” she said with a smile.

“Hello, Ms Potts,” he greeted in reply. “Would you like some coffee?”

“Yes, please.”

Vision set the tray down on the steps and began pouring her coffee. Pepper watched him, suddenly struck by how human he seemed compared to the bio-droids at the police station. Pepper didn't own one herself, but her mother had one to help her around the house so she'd definitely encountered them before. Bio-droids were hardly uncommon, although between purchasing them and keeping them fueled they also weren't a cheap commodity either. Vision was still stoic as any of the others she'd encountered, his voice void of emotion, but somehow he seemed ever-so-slightly more animated, more human. Then again, Tony had most likely set the bar when he'd started treating Vision as an actual person and not a highly-advanced appliance.

Vision handed her the coffee. She thanked him and took a sip. As usual, it was exactly the way she liked it with no sugar and a dash of cream. Tony drank his coffee black, so Jarvis must've told Vision she'd arrived for there to even be cream on the tray. She then watched the bio-droid cock his head at his owner.

“Don't worry,” she told him. “I'll make sure he surfaces soon.”

Vision nodded at her and left. Pepper grabbed a scone and sat down on the stairs.

It took Tony several minutes more before he finally slithered out of the wall. His hair was an even bigger mess than usual and caked with dust. But he was grinning triumphantly as he held up a circular metal disc. There was a small red light blinking next to his hand.

He sniffed the air. “Ooh, coffee?” he said and then zeroed in on the tray sitting on the steps.

“Tony, wash your hands before you touch any of it,” Pepper admonished.

Tony paused just in front of the steps and blinked up at her. “Oh, hey Pep, when did you get here?”

She rolled her eyes. “About fifteen minutes ago.”

“Oh.” He placed the metal disc down, grimacing when he noticed his hands. They were black with filth. “Okay, I'm gonna be right back. Don't you dare drink all the coffee!”

“Wouldn't dream of it,” she said. She did, however, pour herself another cup.

Tony looked much cleaner when he returned. There was still quite a bit of dust in his hair, but at least it no longer looked like he'd rolled in it. He poured himself a cup of coffee, not even bothering to put the carafe down as he guzzled it down, and then poured himself a second. Pepper reached over and nudged the plate of sandwiches towards him. He took one and sat down on the step next to her.

“So, how's the security system coming?” Pepper asked.

“Oh, the security system's not even the most interesting part,” said Tony almost immediately. “See, first I had to figure out just how Stane managed to get past my security systems. I told you I'd transposed ones from the Tower, right? Those are systems I designed. _No one_ should've been able to get through them as easily as they managed to.”

Pepper frowned. “So how did they do it?”

Tony chuckled. “They cut the power to the mansion. We never noticed, because we never tried turning on any of the lights. See, the Tower has a back-up system that initiates an automatic full lockdown if the power flickers for more than sixty seconds unless I enter the override code. But I never bothered installing that into the manor, because there isn't as much sensitive research here and the Tower's mainframe is separate and can't be accessed from here anyway, not even by me. Plus it would mean some major construction on the house. I figured I could always do it later.”

Pepper nodded slowly, but her frown deepened. “Did the power come back on part-way through?”

“Nope!” Tony took another large bite of his sandwich, his eyes sparkling merrily and silently prompting Pepper to finish her thought.

“But Jarvis still worked, and so did that security system. I mean, those robot crab things you described probably would've had their own internal power sources, but the chandelier sounds like it'd be too big and complicated for that...”

“Bingo! Which is when I realized that Jarvis said himself that he's been online for over two hundred years. I checked the records and the house hasn't been hooked up to the city power grid since Anthony Stark abandoned the place. Which means that, somehow, this building has its own, independent power source. And a pretty impressive one if it's still going strong after two hundred years of continuous use.”

“Hm. That is impressive. And I take it you haven't had any luck with the building schematics?”

Tony stuffed the rest of his sandwich into his mouth and grimaced. “No. There's nothing that would indicate extra wiring or where this power source could be located.”

“What about the bunker?”

“Checked that. It's a dead end. There's a regular old generator powering it. In fact, it's so old it's probably the original one Howard Stark installed in the 1960s – probably wouldn't last more than half a day at best at this point and that's assuming it even turns on. I don't think Anthony touched it at all, which makes me think the independent power source is probably his creation.”

“What does Jarvis say?”

“He says he doesn't know, so either Anthony deleted the information from his memory banks, or made it inaccessible except by password. Or possibly built it before he built Jarvis.”

Pepper looked to the hole in the wall. “So, I take it you're hoping to trace the security system to the power source.”

“Exactly!” Tony put down his coffee and jumped to his feet. He took the steps two at a time as he went down to get the metal disc he'd dug out from the wall. “These guys here are clearly controlled by radio signals of some sort, and I'm thinking if I can trace them, then I'll have a place to start looking for the power source.”

Pepper nodded. “And you won't forget that you need something to show the board on Monday?”

Tony winced. “Can't you just go to the meeting for me? I'll give you the schematics and projects and everything you need to know...”

She sighed. “Tony, you're the CEO.”

“Then I'll make you the CEO. Actually, that's not a bad idea. I can still be the brilliant genius owner in the background and you can do all the business stuff that you do better than I do anyway. Jarvis, remind me tomorrow to call my legal team about making up a contract.”

_“Yes, sir. I'll pencil it into your day.”_

“Tony!” Pepper finally managed to stop gaping and found her voice. “You can't just stop being CEO! The company's just gone through a major upheaval. Another one right on top won't look good at all.”

Tony waved her off. “Please, most people already think I'm too unstable to run Stark Industries. Stane was good at the business administrative stuff, which is why the company stayed in good standing. They'll see this as me acknowledging my weaknesses and leaving the parts I'm not so good at to someone who is. It's not like I'm giving away the company – just handing the administration part of it to someone else.”

“Yes, but me? Tony I don't have the qualifications to be the CEO of Stark Industries.”

The look he sent her was the sort he tended to give scientists when he thought they were being particularly stupid. “Pep, you're already doing most of the job. It's just that you have to get me to do the speeches and proposals and can't sign the paperwork yourself. You even write most of those speeches!”

Pepper still gaped at him. She couldn't help it. She'd always known she was going above and beyond what was technically in her job description, but she'd never really thought of it that way...

“Obie was full of it, but one thing he said during the invasion sort of hit close to home. He said that behind every Stark was a brilliant business administrator, the person who actually kept the company going. But none of them were ever truly acknowledged for the work they did. It was always a Stark in the foreground. I want to change that. You're better at the business thing than I am, so why shouldn't I let you take over? Ultimately, it'll be better for the company if I can concentrate on coming up with something that'll put us back into the technological forefront, right?”

“Well... yes, I suppose.”

“Good! Then take the weekend off and think about it. I'll have the contract drawn up by Monday and we can present it to the board along with whatever brilliant thing I come up with. I've actually nearly got a prototype of the pendant-cam ready to go.”

“Right, okay.” She shook her head. “Wait, Tony, you do realize it's Tuesday, right?”

He blinked. “Is it? Well, then make it a long weekend. A really long weekend.”

“You wouldn't survive without me for nearly a week.”

“Um... sure I could...”

“Uh huh. Tell you what, I'll take the weekend off, but I'll work until then.”

Tony beamed. “Sounds good,” he said before turning his attention to the folded-up crab robot.

Not knowing quite how her day had taken such a twist, she placed her empty coffee cup onto the tray and stood to go.

“Bye, Tony,” she said, not really expecting a reply now that he was preoccupied again. She didn't get one.

“Bye, Jarvis,” she then added as she made her way to the front door.

_“Good-bye, Ms Potts. And if I may, congratulations on your promotion.”_

“Thanks,” she said, looking back fondly at her boss. “I think.”

 _“I imagine that time will indeed tell,”_ said the AI, sounding amused.

 

* * *

 

Tony startled and dropped the magnetic screwdriver in his hand when his comm bracelet vibrated. Blinking, he looked up for the first time in... he wasn't quite sure how long. Although at some point it seemed to have gotten dark outside. And someone had lit the chandelier. Probably Vision, or possibly Jarvis, come to think of it. If he had control over the gas dispensing mechanism inside, then he probably had control of the lights as well.

The bracelet continued to vibrate insistently. He tapped the gem and the name Pepper Potts came up. Raising an eyebrow, he accepted the call.

“Hey, Pep, what's up?” he said with a smile. She looked anxious: had he forgotten to do something?

 _“Tony, stop whatever you're doing and go check the news,”_ she said, her words coming faster and more jumbled than usual.

“Shit, is it Stane?” he asked, already on his feet and rushing off to the entertainment room in the lower level of the residential wing.

_“No, no, it's nothing to do with Stane or Stark Industries – at least not directly anyway. There... there's been a vigilante attack in China.”_

“An attack?”

He threw the doors open and ran in, finding the television already on and displaying CNN. Later, he would have to remember to ask Jarvis how he'd managed to get so much control over the house's systems. At the moment, though, Tony was too busy staring at areal views of several piles of rubble that were once the Chinese government buildings. All around them, Beijing was burning.

“Holy shit,” he said.

Then the footage changed to something that was clearly from earlier in the night, and probably shot by an amateur if the shaky quality was anything to go by. It showed a giant oblong shape coming down from the thick grey early morning clouds like a ghost, silent and ominous. And then bright beams of blue light started shooting down at the city. The image shook even more.

“That's not just a vigilante, that's a fucking space ship!” said Tony. “Are we being attacked by aliens?”

_“Although there is always the slight possibility of alternate entry, I should point out that none of the Stark Industry satellites have registered anything entering our atmosphere.”_

Tony paused. “Wait, you have access to the satellites?! _I_ don't even have access to the satellites for anything other than using them as relay ports!”

_“The United World Council was not aware that I existed, therefore no steps were taken to revoke my access.”_

Tony gaped.

 _“Tony, that's not important right now,”_ said Pepper. _“Should I contact the Maria Stark Foundation treasurer and tell him we're authorizing a large donation towards the relief effort?”_

“What? Yes, yes of course. Oh, and that factory out in China's still ours, right?”

_“Yes, Stane got the one in Bangladesh, but the one in China's still ours.”_

“Good, then call the factory director and tell him – no, wait, it's a 'her' isn't it – right, tell her that if any of the workers want to go volunteer with the relief effort, we'll pay them their regular wages. Tell her to bill the New York office directly for that and the transportation to get them there. I'm assuming they've gotta have trucks or something at the factory, right?”

He could see Pepper smiling on the holoscreen. _“I imagine they do. Should I also tell her to load up whatever space is left on the trucks with food and water and send us the bill for that too?”_

“Good idea, absolutely.”

_“I'll get right on it. Bye, Tony.”_

“Bye, Pep,” he said absently, eyes glued to the screen all over again as CNN showed live footage from a flyover of the city. There were holes among the buildings now, giant craters where other buildings used to stand. Chunks of the city now demolished. Complicated twists of roads, zoom tunnels and bullet-trains were all fused together and jumbled into an unrecognizable heap in the midst of crumbled cement and scorched metal.

The doors to the entertainment room opened and he pulled himself away in to turn to Vision. The bio-droid was staring at the screen, his eyes slightly wider than usual.

“It's pretty bad, huh?” said Tony.

“Yes, sir,” Vision said, blinking once before looking away to face Tony. “I apologize for interrupting you, sir, but the intruder in the garden is back.”

“What?!”

Not even stopping to consider whether or not said intruder could be dangerous, Tony flew through the house. By the time he reached the kitchen he was out of breath, but he only paused for a moment to glance out the window to make sure the woman was still there. She was.

Tony quietly opened the door and stepped outside. He was already half-way there by the time it occurred to him that maybe he should've brought something weapon-like with him. Not that it would've done him any good, except make him feel slightly less nervous.

He was starting to wonder whether the woman knew he was approaching, when she suddenly stood. She turned, sharp eyes immediately finding him and boring into his eyes, as though examining his very soul. He froze to the spot, speech abandoning him for the moment. She wasn't doing anything but standing, yet there was a power and confidence in her stance that spoke of someone who had very little to fear, knowing they could take down any who opposed them. If he'd ever doubted her proficiency with the sword at her hip, he certainly didn't anymore.

“You are the new resident of the House of Stark,” she finally said, leaving Tony unsure as to whether or not he'd passed her soul-searching test.

“Er, yes, I'm Tony Stark,” he said, pulling himself together enough to flash her his most charming smile. Not that she appeared to notice. “And this house and its gardens are mine. I've sort of noticed you've been visiting and thought I'd come say 'hello', 'who are you' and 'what are you doing trespassing on my property'?”

The light from the house only barely reached this far, but Tony could've sworn amusement flashed through the woman's eyes.

“Well met, Tony Stark,” she replied. “It is an honour to make the acquaintance of a scion of Anthony's line. I am Sif, Valkyrie and Lady of Asgard. I come here to pay my respects to my prince, who disappeared from this place many years ago.”

“Asgard?” Tony asked, his eyes widening in amazement. “I've read about Asgard, but I was never sure if it was meant to be a real place or an ideal, like an end destination. Doctor Jane Foster wrote about it in her work on the Einstein-Rosen bridge. A lot of the publicly-available texts have been heavily edited over the years, but we had hard copies of her original texts at home when I was growing up. She mentions Asgard and something called the Rainbow Bridge in her work. So, you're saying Asgard's a real place, somewhere she was trying to get to?”

Lady Sif nodded. “The Lady Jane was my prince's beloved. The Rainbow Bridge is how we travel between our realm and yours. It was once broken for a time, and so the Lady Jane sought a way to reconnect with Asgard herself.”

“Wow, wow, okay that's incredible!” Unable to stand still anymore, Tony began to pace. “That completely changes everything about her work. I mean, it always seemed odd that she just assumed things, unscientific even. But if she'd actually seen it working, then her methodology is no longer quite so suspect.”

When nothing answered him but silence, he paused in his motions and glanced to the side, just in case she'd disappeared while he wasn't paying attention. But, unlike all his other friendly visitors, she was still there. The hard expression on her face had eased slightly and developed an amused, but melancholy edge.

“What?” he asked.

She shook her head, now definitely amused. “You remind me of Anthony Stark.”

He blinked, slowly turning to face her again, not doing a thing to keep the incredulity off his face. “You _knew_ Anthony Stark?! But he died almost two hundred years ago! There's no way you're that old.”

“I am much older than that.” She grinned sharply. “Do not measure me by your human standards, Tony Stark, for I not only knew Anthony Stark but fought by his side. Prince Thor and his shieldmates disappeared on the eve of a great threat. An evil man who called himself the Mandarin had procured the powers of ancient beings and, using them, endeavored to bend your world to his will. With Thor gone, myself and the Warriors Three took his place in aiding the Man of Iron and his compatriots, the Soldier of Winter, the Daredevil and the Fantastic Four in the glorious battle to defeat this foul villain and rid your world of his nefarious evil. If you wish I will gladly regale you with the tale, for it was a hard-fought battle, though we emerged victorious in the end.”

Tony wasn't even sure where to start with this new information. Man of Iron? No doubt that was Iron Man, the last of the vigilantes who died protecting New York from a malicious android. Not many people knew the name of the man inside the armour, though it wasn't exactly difficult to find it in the records.

“So you knew Phil Coulson then?” he asked. She cocked her head at him. “You know, the man inside the Iron Man armour? They got his identity when they fished the wrecked armour out of the New York harbour.”

Lady Sif laughed. “I do not know how that transpired, for I was back in Asgard then, but you are wrong, Tony Stark. The Son of Coul was many things, a brave and honourable man for certain, but he was not the Man of Iron.”

Tony stared at her, trying to figure out whether she'd have any reason to lie to him. He couldn't find one. Just then her eyes glanced to something behind him and she froze, her expression closing off instantly. Tony turned, but only saw Vision approaching them with his usual calm, measured gait.

“Hey, Vision!” he called, hoping to put Sif at ease. “Something wrong?”

“Not any more wrong than previously, sir,” said Vision, his eyes darting quickly towards Lady Sif before coming back to Tony. The gesture looked almost nervous. “I merely wished to ascertain whether or not you needed me to prepare refreshments.”

Tony blinked. “Ah, I don't know.” He looked back to Lady Sif, noting how she didn't look even the slightest more at ease than before. “Lady Sif, care to join me for some coffee and whatever food Vision can magic up this late at night?”

The Asgardian warrior was still standing ramrod straight, her jaw clenched as she observed Vision. “I think not, Tony Stark.” She turned furious eyes on him. He only barely managed to stop himself from taking a step backwards. “I had thought better of you. Your predecessor was an honourable man and so I thought you would be as well. I am disappointed to find that you are capable of such heinous acts.”

She spun on her heel and stalked across the lawn. Tony gaped after her. The accusation stung, especially so because he had no idea what he'd done to earn it. Did Asgardians have some sort of law against androids? Except that didn't really fit with her words either. As she got closer to the high stone wall, she broke into a run and then leapt over the wall in one, smooth motion.

She hadn't looked back once.


	11. Chapter 10

Vision looked up, visibly startled, as Tony stormed into the kitchen. Tony felt bad for about half a second, until he realized he'd done far worse and Vision was no doubt used to it by now. 'Used to it'... what a curious turn of phrase, he thought as he poured himself a fresh mug of coffee. It implied the ability to learn as well as adapt and Vision had most definitely done both when it came to keeping up with Tony's lifestyle and habits.

“I was just going to bring you some food, sir,” said Vision. “I would've added coffee to the tray if you had asked Jarvis to tell me.”

Tony shrugged. “Eh, I needed to clear my head. Schematics that should be making sense weren't making sense.”

Tony finished pouring his coffee and looked up, his mouth instantly watering at the thick, juicy burger sitting next to a pile of unnecessary green leafy stuff. He saw pickles, onions and big slab of white cheese: just the way he liked it. Now that his mind was no longer occupied with unfairly-confusing schematics, he could smell it in the air as well. His stomach growled.

“Wow, that looks amazing,” he said, moving towards the wonderful sight. “You haven't made burgers in forever, Vision. Thank you.”

He reached out and took the plate gleefully before sweeping back out of the kitchen.

“You're welcome, sir,” Vision called after him.

Two hours later, the plate lay discarded on the corner of the large oak desk in the drawing room, nothing left of the meal but some crumbs and a few pieces of wilted lettuce. Tony was sitting on the large brown leather couch. His frown hadn't lessened during those two hours as he continued to stare at the same specs he'd been staring at all morning. Well, all morning once he'd remembered where he'd put Vision's data-chip (most bio-droids wore theirs around their necks, but Tony hadn't even had Vision for a year when he decided the dangling piece of tech was a hazard around the workshop and instead hid it away for safe keeping). Then he'd ensconced himself into the drawing room and synced it with his holopad. Since then he'd been trying to figure out the schematics. Trying being the operative word, because no matter how many times he looked at them, they just didn't make sense.

Finally, he just made a frustrated noise and waved the holopad away, towards the other end of the couch. The projection slanted slightly. “Jarvis, am I missing something?”

For a few, long moments, his only response was silence.

_“Would you like me to do a full body scan on Vision, sir?”_

Tony blinked and then sat up abruptly. “Wait, you can do that?”

_“Indeed. The third lab in the Science Wing has fully-functioning sensors connected to my systems.”_

“Wait, what?” Tony frowned. “There are sensors in the house that you have control of? Really? Jarvis, you need to tell me these things!”

_“I believe, sir, I am telling you now.”_

“Oh don't get smart with me! Did Anthony program you to be this sassy?”

_“I'm afraid you would have to ask him.”_

“Yeah, right, I'll get on inventing that time machine just as soon as I've figured this out. At least it'll be a crazy invention Pepper will approve of.”

He swung by the kitchen on his way and collected Vision. The bio-droid had been in the middle of mixing up something that looked like it had chocolate chunks in it, but he obediently left it and followed Tony when asked. Vision's footsteps were nearly silent as always and Tony wondered, not for the first time, whether even that little bit of noise he made was for Tony's benefit.

He hadn't spread out into the third lab yet and so the room, when they entered, was mostly bare. There was a large refrigeration unit in the back and several long, white tables running along its length with a sturdy-looking cabinet behind them. The cabinet was filled with an odd assortment of scientific apparatus that had been salvaged from the rest of the labs, some of which had likely been used by Anthony Stark and some of which looked like they'd probably been kept as curiosities (such as the bulky microscope that looked like it had probably been ancient even in Howard Stark's time). Because why wouldn't a scientist collect antique science equipment?

Actually, Tony had no idea why anyone would want antique science equipment, but he owned it now anyway.

“Alright, Jarvis, where do you want him?” he asked as he stepped into the room.

_“Anywhere is fine, sir. Vision, I am going to scan you now. Do not worry, it is entirely non-invasive.”_

Vision cocked his head. “Very well, Jarvis,” he said. Then he turned to Tony. “Is there something the matter, sir?”

Tony leaned against one of the lab tables and shrugged. “I don't know. I'm trying to figure out why Lady Sif reacted to you the way she did. I don't like not knowing why people are angry with me.”

Vision blinked. “You have never cared what people thought of you, sir.”

“Ha! Yeah, not usually, but there was just something about the way she said it...”

“All the relevant data should be on the spec-chip you received along with me.”

“I've already looked at it, which is why I'm having Jarvis scan you. It's probably nothing, just my insatiable curiosity. You know me.” He flashed Vision his most charming smile, despite knowing it'd have little to no effect on the bio-droid.

“Indeed, sir.”

_“Sir, Vision, the scan is complete.”_

“Excellent! Thanks for participating. Vision, you can go back to whatever it was you were doing. What was that, anyway?”

“Chocolate chip muffins, sir. Captain Rhodes is due to arrive later this evening in order to do a follow-up with the home invasion and, as I recall, they are his favourite.”

“Wait, Rhodey's coming over tonight? Cool. Well then go forth and make muffins!”

“Yes, sir.”

“Jarvis, can you patch those results to my holopad?” Tony asked as Vision left the room.

_“I have already done so.”_

“You are one scarily-efficient AI, Jarvis, you know that?”

_“Thank you, sir.”_

Tapping the bracelet that brought up his holopad platform, he immediately found the icon that signified Jarvis' scans of Vision and tapped on it. It was a good thing the bracelet was attached to his wrist and therefore not something that could fall out of his hands or else it would've gone crashing down the moment the files opened. Tony's eyes widened, unable to fully comprehend what he was seeing at first.

“Jarvis, a-are you sure these are right?” he finally whispered.

 _“I performed them twice, sir. I'm afraid they are entirely accurate.”_ Jarvis's voice sounded gentle, soothing – sympathetic, but not surprised.

Tony looked up from the holopad. He wasn't certain where the optical eyes in this room were, so he just addressed the room itself. “You knew,” he said. “That's why you offered to scan him yourself. You knew what the scan would find.”

_“I... suspected, sir. I had reason to believe it was possibly something like this, however I possessed no concrete proof.”_

“Until now.”

_“Yes, until now.”_

“Holy shit,” said Tony, running a hand through his hair. He felt sick.

This was no longer his area of expertise. Tapping his comm bracelet, Tony dialed Hank Pym.

 

* * *

 

“Tony!”

Tony looked up, blinking in bewilderment as Jan raced into the lab, looking anxious and slightly out-of-breath. “Uh, hey Jan,” he said. “What's wrong?”

Jan stopped and gave him an incredulous look just as Hank jogged more sedately into the room. “What do you mean 'what's wrong'? You called Hank. We figured you must've heard more information from Rhodey about Tokyo.”

Tony continued to stare blankly at her. “Tokyo? What happened in Tokyo?”

“Oh God. Please tell me you know what happened in Beijing last night?”

He frowned. “You mean the attack, yeah, I know about that. Pepper called to tell me and Stark Industries is sending aid and supplies.”

“Well there was another attack about two hours ago in Tokyo. Same thing, except Japan had had enough time to mobilize part of its Police Force – not that it did them any good. City's just as wrecked now.”

“And the United World Council still hasn't commented,” Hank added. He shrugged. “Whatever you wanted to talk about sounded urgent, so we figured maybe Rhodey had been by already and you had more news.”

Tony slowly shook his head. “Nooo, Rhodey is coming over, but not 'till later. I wanted to talk to you about a science thing.”

Hank blinked. “Oh.” He came closer to look over Tony's shoulder. “What've you got?”

Tony raised a hand and took a step backwards. “Okay, so first of all, I should tell you I finally managed to corner my garden intruder.”

“Your garden intruder?” Hank asked. “As opposed to all the ghostly ones?”

“Yes, as opposed to them. Anyway, I knew she'd been here a few times, but I've always managed to just miss her. Last night I finally caught up to her and, well, she was a bit strange, but we were getting along and everything was going well... until Vision showed up. Then she suddenly got all angry with me and said something about how she was disappointed I wasn't as honourable as Anthony.”

Jan frowned. “She got all pissy because of a bio-droid? That's weird. Also, did you just say she knew Anthony Stark?”

“Yes, I did and no, I don't know how that's possible. Anyway, 'weird' is exactly what I thought, so I decided to try and figure out what she was so angry about.” He turned to his holopad and dug into the encrypted directory that contained the bootlegged copies of Vision's spec-chip data. Tapping on the icon, he projected the images out and magnified them.

It took Hank approximately twenty seconds to recognize what he was looking at. “Tony!” he exclaimed with wide eyes. “Copying those is highly illegal!”

Tony waved his concern off. “And the hard copy has a time limit placed on the file so that it can't be open for more than half an hour at a time. Ever wondered why they did that? Like why include specs at all if you're going to restrict their access like that? Just making something illegal isn't going to stop people from doing it. If anything it's like waving a red flag.”

Jan sighed. “Alright, Mister Genius, impress us with what you've figured out.”

Tony grinned at her, knowing her exasperation was feigned. Well, mostly feigned. “What they're doing is providing evidence that the bio-droids are what they tell us they are, but without allowing anyone enough time to figure out that it's all a very elaborate lie.” He paused for dramatic tension, pleased at how both his friends blinked and straightened. “I spent hours poring over these, trying to figure out how they worked until I finally realized they just didn't.”

Hank came closer, peering at the blueprints with thoughtful eyes.

Janet, meanwhile, frowned. “Okay, I'll take your word for it, but in that case why bother with this elaborate a lie?”

“To throw people off,” said Tony, as he tapped on the scan files that Jarvis had uploaded to his holopad earlier. It projected out next to the fake blueprints. “These are the results of a scan I did on Vision earlier.”

Hank's eyes widened.

Jan looked stunned. “Okay, I'm no scientist, but that doesn't look anything like what I'd expect android innards to look like. I mean, I can see _organs_.”

Tony nodded, gritting his teeth as he fought to remain calm through his explanation. “The bio-droids aren't robots inside a biological shell, but instead they're biological lifeforms with mechanical implants. And possibly with some sort of genetic enhancements as well, but that's well into the realm of soft squishy stuff and I don't do soft squishy stuff.”

Hank pointed to the image. “I'd guess this implant here by his brain stem is probably meant to manipulate his mind. Maybe that why bio-droids are always so stoic and emotionless.”

“Brainwashing... oh my god, Tony, Hank, this is slavery!” Jan looked as sick as Tony had felt when he'd realized what this meant. “We've all been unknowingly helping to perpetuate institutionalized slavery! That's... I just don't even know what I'm supposed to say to that.”

“How detailed are the scans you have?” Hank asked.

Tony tapped on a few more of the files from Jarvis and brought the projections up. “There actually seems to be a second implant on the centre of his forehead where that jewel thing is, but I'm not one hundred percent positive is it one.”

Hank nodded. “No, I think I agree.” He looked over to the file that showed energy readings. “I mean, it's definitely not natural, whatever it is. More to the point, you know those silicone head coverings they, well, 'wear' I suppose, for lack of a better word? I'm pretty sure the material is actually fused to their skin.”

Jan made a strangled noise and Tony knew his own facial expression probably wasn't much better.

“Is there any way to get those things out of them?” Jan asked quietly.

Tony and Hank exchanged glances.

“Possibly,” Tony allowed, “But I'd rather not attempt that myself. I mean, it's attached to his brain for fuck's sake.”

“Right, yes, of course.” She took a deep breath. “Okay, you two work on this and I'll go and get the stuff we left in your guest room. Then I'll wait for Rhodey I guess.”

“Sure, Jan.”

“Shit Tony,” said Hank after Jan's footsteps had disappeared down the corridor. “This is horrible. I mean, I know you treat Vision alright and Jan practically dotes on Pirouette, but I've seen some people treat their bio-droids like disposable trash. This means their efficiency doesn't just go down until they shut down if they don't get enough fuel, it means they actually go hungry and starve. There was a guy I knew in college who owned a bio-droid and when his money was tight he would often leave it to go on half-reserves until he could afford to buy more of the fuel cubes.”

Tony took a deep breath and then let it out gradually. He'd been trying very, very hard not to think of all the implications of what he'd discovered.

_“If I may, I would like to point out that, historically speaking, humans have not exactly been known to always treat each other much better.”_

The bark of laughter Tony couldn't contain sounded bitter even to his own ears. “Good point, Jarvis.”

“Jarvis?” he heard Hank ask.

_“Hello, Doctor Pym, I am Jarvis, an Artificial Intelligence created by Anthony Stark. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”_

Hank's eyes widened and he looked up towards the ceiling. “An artificial intelligence? Oh wow, uh, it's nice to meet you too, Jarvis.” He looked back at Tony. “This house is starting to become my favourite place to be.”

This time, Tony's laughter was genuine.

 

* * *

 

Pepper laughed as she opened the door for Rhodey. Just like everyone else, he was astonished by the key lock. Or rather, astonished that Tony had allowed himself to own something with a key lock. She walked in, took in the abandoned foyer and sighed. They were exactly on time. Tony had mostly likely forgotten they were coming.

She nearly asked Jarvis for Tony's location, when she realized she was with Rhodey, who didn't know about the AI yet. Then she noticed that the dining room door was open. She walked over and poked her head inside, surprised to see Janet sitting at the table with a holopad in one hand and a cup of steaming coffee by the other.

“Oh hi, Janet,” Pepper greeted her. “I wasn't expecting you here.”

Janet's head snapped up. She smiled, but Pepper couldn't help but notice how she never fully relaxed again. “Hey Pepper, Rhodey. Tony called Hank over to get his help on a science emergency and I tagged along.”

“Hi Jan, it's good to see you looking better,” said Rhodey as he walked in behind Pepper. “And this is perfect. I can kill all my birds with one stone, since I was going to go down to see you after I was done with Tony.”

“You mean after Tony was done with you,” Janet pointed out with a teasing smile.

Rhodey made a face. “Yeah, I guess that might just be a better way of putting it.”

Pepper smiled.

Suddenly Jan's expression turned thoughtful. “So, the attacks in Asia...” she began. Pepper noticed Rhodey freeze. “Is the United World Council planning something? Is that why they haven't given any official statements to the press? I mean, usually, they're right on top of things.”

Pepper looked to Rhodey, being interested in the answer herself. Rhodey ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “I don't know,” he finally said. “As far as I know, no one does. Don't even think about spreading this around, but from what I've heard, it's not even so much that the United World Council hasn't commented on the situation, but rather that no one can contact them to get a comment. We've been monitoring the Network for sightings of the city, but so far there's been nothing.”

“That doesn't sound good at all,” said Pepper.

“Yeah, it's really not.”

Just then Vision walked into the room carrying a tray with a coffee pot, five mugs and a plate of chocolate chip muffins.

“Aw, Vision, you made chocolate chip muffins!” Rhodey exclaimed delightedly.

“I was made aware that you would be visiting this evening,” said Vision as he unloaded the tray onto the table.

“Seriously, best bio-droid ever!”

Out of the corner of her eye, Pepper saw Janet flinch. She looked over and blinked in surprise at the odd look on Janet's face as she watched Vision pour the coffee: fear, guilt and horror all mixed together.

She accepted her cup of coffee from Vision and went to sit down next to Janet. “Are you alright, Jan?” she asked.

Janet's eyes slid over to her for a moment and then shook her head. Vision topped up her cup of coffee and she thanked him quietly, before turning back to Pepper. “I'll let Tony explain,” she said.

Once he'd finished pouring coffee, Vision turned to Rhodey. “Officer Rhodes, Mister Stark is in the labs, would you like me to go fetch him?”

“Nah,” said Rhodey, waving him off. “We'll be be here forever if we wait for him to pull his head out of whatever science project he's working on right now. It'll be easier to go to him. But first, I'm gonna have at least one muffin.”

“Very good, sir,” said Vision. He took the tray and left, leaving the rest of them eating muffins and drinking coffee in silence.

A loud, angry roar broke the silence and the entire house rattled. They looked at one another with wide, terrified eyes. A second roar had them running out of the room to find out what was going on.

 

* * *

 

“You know what we really need is to get some more powerful equipment and do some extensive scans of Vision's head,” said Hank. Then he looked to the ceiling. “No offense, Jarvis, these are great, but your scanning equipment's about one hundred years out of date at least.”

“Which is impressive since it's over two hundred years old,” Tony pointed out absently as he stared at his own rough sketch of the device on the e-board.

“Oh, certainly, but you can't really do a proper x-ray without the chamber, for instance.”

_“No offense taken, Doctor Pym. I am well aware of my own limitations as well as technology's advancement over the course of the past two hundred years.”_

Tony looked between the readings Jarvis had gotten from the device attached to Vision's brain stem and back to his own, tentative blueprints. They'd decided to try and work backwards: reverse engineer the implant by figuring out how it did what it did. The problem was that they weren't entirely sure what it did. He heard Hank come up behind him.

“You know, it's probably a type of neural-inhibitor,” Hank pointed out. “Probably at least somewhat related to the sort they use on violent mental patients. In fact, it's possible that's where the tech came from. Or maybe that tech came from whatever this is.”

Tony blinked. He'd forgotten about those. Not that he spent a whole lot of time hanging out at mental institutions.

“That's a good point,” he said. “Jarvis, can you get your metaphorical hands on specs for one of those?”

_“One moment, sir.”_

“Still, this is going to be a hell of a lot more powerful than that,” Tony continued. “I mean, the inhibitors used on mental patients are only meant to control violent impulses, right? Not all thought.”

“Well, we don't actually know how much of Vision's thoughts it's impairing. There could also be some good old fashioned brain-washing involved as well.”

“And none of this is making me like the United World Council any more.” Tony cocked his head thoughtfully at the sketch. “Okay, so the brain sends off electric impulses and the inhibitor's function is to basically disrupt those impulses. Only it would have to let just enough of them through in order to still allow the brain to operate the rest of the body. And Vision does actually 'think' and do things like bake chocolate chip muffins when he knows Rhodey's coming over. Which is actually kind of odd. Do you think I should be worried that my bio-droid has a crush on my best friend?”

Hank chuckled before picking up a stylus and beginning to write out a series of equations on the e-board. “Well, it does take on a slightly different meaning now that we know he's a living breathing person.”

Tony froze in the middle of reaching out to the board with his own stylus. His eyes widened. “Fuck. I've heard of people saying they've used their bio-droids to get off. Like one of those blow-up dolls only warmer...”

He looked over and met Hank's eyes. He could see his nausea reflected in them.

“Tony, let's stop talking about the implications right now and just figure this out. I'm not sure I actually have the stomach for more speculation.”

“Good plan.”

And then the e-board was filled up with science. Half of it was guesswork, of course, but all of it was brilliant.

“Okay, that's not right,” said Hank suddenly, as he pointed at a set of equations on the board. “I'm sure we're on the right track here, but that output would fry a person's brain instead of just inhibit their responses to outside stimuli.”

Tony frowned as he looked back to what Hank was pointing to. “You think?”

“I know. Biologist, remember?”

“Yes, but not a neurologist.”

“Closer to one than you are.”

“Okay, fine. But that's how you get those readings. Unless we're missing something?”

Tony and Hank both stepped back from the e-board and stared at the equations. It was an odd jumble of Tony's sprawling, pointy handwriting and Hank's smaller, more precise letters and numbers. Tony went over it all again, knowing that Hank beside him was doing the same. He followed the math, went down the path it led, and then got to the same conclusion. Everything looked right, except that it was wrong.

They both cried out in protest as several lines of equations were suddenly erased off the board. And then watched, stunned, as new equations took their place.

“This changes the end result,” said Tony slowly, passing his stylus over the math beneath and deleting it all. He continued on from where their mysterious helper had left off.

“That looks like a much better output,” Hank commented when he was done.

“Yeah.”

_“Sirs, I have the specs you requested. I apologize for the delay. Accessing the American Mental Health Institute's port proved slightly trickier than I'd anticipated.”_

“Thanks, Jarvis, we'll take a look at that in a-wait a minute. Did you just say you hacked a major government Network Port?!”

_“Not exactly. I've had backdoor access to the government Network Port since the United States Government switched to it from its previous internet-accessible database. It was accessing the Mental Health Institute itself that proved troublesome.”_

“Tony, as an AI, Jarvis might not be illegal,” said Hank. “But he certainly does illegal things.”

“And I can honestly say it wasn't my influence,” said Tony.

_“Technically speaking, as I am not considered a 'person' under the law, none of the laws extend to me.”_

Tony looked to Hank. “I won't mention this if you don't mention it.”

Hank nodded. “Agreed.”

Tony turned back to the e-board and then glanced around the room. “Okay, whoever you are, you can't just wow us with science and then disappear – not that you were ever visible in the first place. It's not like we can bite you even if we wanted to!”

Someone behind them chuckled.

Tony whipped around. There was a man wearing a labcoat and jeans sitting on one of the lab tables. The curly mop of dark curls and hunched-in posture was instantly recognizable. “You! You're the rumpled professor from the ballroom! I saw you dancing with – I'm going to assume – Natasha, unless she's Sam and someone else has a very strange nickname.”

His lips curled into a small, amused smile. “No, that was Natasha. She wanted to dance, so she dragged me out onto the dance floor. I'm Bruce, by the way.”

Tony grinned. “Bruce, good to meet you! I'm Tony and this is Hank. So are you a biologist?”

Bruce shook his head. “No, nuclear physicist actually. However, I had reason in the decade before my death to turn my attention to biology and genetics.”

“And you were friends with Anthony?”

“I was one of only a handful of people who could keep up with him,” said Bruce in a matter-of-fact tone, despite what it meant. Anthony Stark had been a Rennaisance man's genius and the only people who could've hoped to keep up with him had to be at least as brilliant as he was in their respective fields. A statement like that should've been said with more arrogance, more pride, but Bruce's voice held neither.

“What's your last name?” Tony asked.

Bruce raised an eyebrow. “Banner, but I doubt you've heard of me. In fact, I imagine this United World Council that cropped up after we died probably suppressed most, if not all, of my research. Not that much of it was public record to begin with, mind you. I'd done quite a bit of classified work for the US Air Force back before... well, before I met Anthony and the others.”

“Huh, okay, that's interesting. So, you wanna help us figure this out then?”

Bruce shrugged, though Tony couldn't help but notice the gleam in his eye. “I haven't done any proper science in centuries, but sure.”

“Excellent! Okay, Jarvis, bring up those specs.”

Tony was grinning, excited by the prospect that one of the 'ghosts' inside the house was a scientist of a caliber equal to Anthony Stark's, even if not entirely of the same genius. Between him, Hank and now Bruce, surely they could figure this neural-inhibitor thing out. And that would just be the beginning. Jarvis had already set Tony's holopad to project the specs into the middle of the room.

“Hey, we were actually pretty close,” Hank commented when he looked at the Mental Health Institute's specs for their Violent Impulse Neural Suppressor (also labeled VINS on the spec pages).

“Hm, yeah,” Tony agreed. “With a bit more time we would've figured it out. Especially with Bruce's help. What do you think, Bruce?”

When Bruce didn't answer, Tony sighed and looked beside him, expecting to find him gone. Or at the very least invisible again. But Bruce was still there, staring at the projections in... recognition? Did Bruce know this tech? But Tony was certain the VINS had only started being used about eighty years ago or so. Maybe they were a little older than that, but he was positive they weren't two hundred-year-old technology.

As he watched, the expression in Bruce's face darkened, his eyes began burning with anger. They also seemed to turn green. No, they were definitely turning bright green.

“Tony, Hank,” he said, his voice strangled. “You two should probably get out of here. Now.”

And then he disappeared before Tony's eyes. But Tony didn't get the time to marvel how this was the first time he'd actually seen one of the 'ghosts' vanish, when the holoscreen flickered violently – as though something large had just passed through it.

Then a deafening roar filled the room. It sounded angry, and violent, and very, very close.

_“Sir, I recommend that you and Doctor Pym vacate the room immediately,” said Jarvis._

Tony didn't hesitate this time, grabbing Hank by the arm and running for the door. They didn't stop until they reached the end of the corridor, where they ran into Steve.

“Tony!” he exclaimed, his eyes immediately looking over both Tony and Hank. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, we're fine,” Tony answered, wincing as he heard the sound of shattering glass come from the lab. “I met Bruce and then we were looking at some specs and he suddenly... I don't know, there was something about the specs that made him angry and then he disappeared and suddenly there was an angry roar.”

Steve winced. “Bruce is a good man, but he has a bit of a temper.” He frowned. “He has a pretty good handle on it, though. Usually takes a lot to rile him up like this.”

Just then a large man wearing gleaming armour and a bright red cape appeared next to Steve. Steve himself was not a small man by anyone's definition, but the newcomer seemed to tower over him. And he was grinning widely.

“Fear not, my friends!” he exclaimed in a voice that boomed in the enclosed space. “I shall vanquish the beast and restore peace to our grand abode!”

Without waiting for a response, he swept past the three of them in swirl of red fabric and shining golden hair.

“Uh, not to sound pessimistic,” said Hank after a pause. They all winced at the sound of a loud crash from the lab and a second ear-shattering roar. “But that didn't actually sound like it'll be particularly helpful.”

“It won't,” said Steve, pinching the bridge of his nose with a long-suffering sigh. “I should probably go try and defuse the situation. Thankfully, Bruce can't really maintain a corporeal form when he gets like this so at least the house isn't in any danger.”

“Uh, good luck,” said Tony. Steve smiled at him and then ran off. Tony watched him go, watched as those powerful shoulders stretched the t-shirt he was wearing and his sweatpants clung to his ass... and, look, he was barefoot again. Did the man have something against shoes? Of course, Tony could think of several activities for which shoes were entirely unnecessary.

“You know he can manage a corporeal form longer than any of the rest of us,” said a female voice.

Tony jumped. He recognized the redhead reclining against the wall, looking amused.

“Oh hello, Natasha,” he said, trying to sound casual. “Is it your goal in life to scare the crap out of me?”

She shrugged. “Everyone needs a hobby.”

He rolled his eyes. “That's just great. Also, I have no idea what you're talking about.” He looked back towards the lab where the crashing sounds had thankfully stopped. “Um, how long exactly?”

She smirked. “You should find out.” Then she pushed herself away from the wall and began to saunter her way towards the lab. “You should also go check up on your guests. Ms Potts and your police officer friend showed up a little while ago.”

Not ten seconds later, he and Hank heard footsteps running towards them.


	12. Chapter 11

The house seemed so much bigger and emptier after everyone left. Tony sighed, resisting the urge to shiver as he turned away from the door and walked back into the empty foyer. Dodging Pepper's questions all evening had been difficult, because she'd known something was up. Hank, though usually more reserved than the rest of them, was especially quiet and Jan was uncharacteristically jumpy – especially around Vision. In fact, he was certain even Vision had noticed, though the bio-droid hadn't commented on it.

Of course he hadn't; he was probably prevented from doing so by the damned implant.

Tony had never truly hated the United World Council until now. Disliked their meddling, sure, but he'd always just accepted that as part of being a free spirit and a genius that didn't really fit in with the rest of society in the first place. But the bio-droids? That made him want to use every bit of Stark Industries' not-inconsiderable influence and fortune to raise a banner, lead a protest – hell, he'd lead a revolt if it came down to it – and, most importantly, _make them pay_.

He hadn't told Rhodey. When his friend had asked if there was anything wrong, Tony had exchanged a single glance with Hank and Jan, and in the span of that glance, they'd decided not to tell him. It wasn't that Tony didn't trust him. Rhodey was a good man, an honourable man, a man who believed in the justice his badge was supposed to symbolize. Which was why they couldn't tell him just yet: if they told Rhodey, he would feel honour-bound to do something about it. And as much as Tony would've loved to watch Rhodey go to battle, he couldn't get Genri's voice out of his head, telling him how he was certain people were disappearing before they managed to tell the world about the injustices they'd discovered.

No, they needed more information before they told Rhodey.

Tony considered the merits of grabbing a bottle and drinking his disgust with the human race into oblivion. Except that wouldn't help Vision or any of the other bio-droids. He shook his head and, instead, decided to head back to the lab and survey the damage.

The door to the ballroom was open and he automatically peeked in as he walked by. He paused in front of the doorway. There was a familiar silhouette standing in the final rays of daylight, bathed in the blues and pinks of the dying sun. Tony's feet took him into the room without conscious thought, drawn by the shine of golden blond hair and ethereal light. As he came closer, he realized the light wasn't just surrounding Steve, but shining through him, as though he was nothing as substantial as a dream. A beautiful dream. His eyes were closed and his lips curled ever-so-slightly upwards into the hint of a smile. Tony wondered if Steve found the light peaceful. Could he feel its warmth?

Suddenly, he was struck with the notion that Steve was looking for the final light, the one that would draw him into the afterlife and let him leave this world for good.

“Steve!” he called out, suddenly panicked by that thought. He didn't want Steve to leave.

Steve's eyes shot open and he looked over to Tony. He smiled. “Hi Tony,” he said. “Sorry about earlier. Bruce is calm again now and we cleaned the lab up as much as we could. It's not really that bad, considering.”

Considering how much damage an angry Bruce could really cause was the unspoken end to that sentence, and Tony wondered just what Bruce was actually capable of. The soft-spoken man who'd walked just a little hunched over to hide his bulk hadn't seemed dangerous, until his eyes had started glowing green. That roar, however, had sounded like a monster – a very angry monster.

Tony swallowed, staring at the translucent lines of Steve's form. “So, can you feel that?” he asked.

Steve blinked and then looked down at himself. “Oh,” he said and then his form solidified and darkened until it was no longer being swallowed by the light. He looked back up to Tony. “Sorry, I didn't realize I was doing that. And no, I can't feel it. I, uh, I can't feel anything.”

He looked away from Tony and out the window again.

“Is that why you watched me?” Tony blurted out, wincing at his own crassness, but the scientist in him wanted to understand. The man in him thought he suddenly understood. He watched Steve freeze. “Just after I'd moved in, the night after I'd finally signed the paperwork and gotten Stane out of my life for good, I brought a couple of ladies home. Well, that got interrupted... as you guys probably know.”

He narrowed his eyes at Steve and watched him shuffle nervously. “Clint knew it wasn't going to hurt anyone. But, well, you were doin' stuff in his bed and he didn't appreciate it.”

“I was _doing stuff_?” There was probably a law of nature somewhere that said a grown man who looked like sex personified was not allowed to talk about sex as 'doing stuff' and look adorable. Steve clearly wasn't paying any attention to said law. “What I was _doing_ was having a threesome with two very enthusiastic and slightly kinky ladies, when a goddamn machete skewered my bed. That hurt both my mental health as well as my prospect of getting laid that night. Neither of which _I_ appreciated.”

“I'll, um, ask him to apologize.”

Tony had the feeling that had his body been capable of it, Steve would've been blushing bright red. That, Tony did appreciate.

“Yeah, whatever, I'm actually over it now and totally wasn't my point. Sorry, I tend to get side-tracked a lot. Anyway, my point was going to be that I remember feeling restless afterwards and decided to jack off before going to sleep. Now I know I was pretty drunk at that point, which is why I never thought anything of it at the time, but I remember seeing these blue eyes in the darkness. When I first met you inside that little hidden room I thought you looked familiar, but I didn't realize why until later. You were in my room that night watching me, weren't you?”

Tony held his breath, praying Steve didn't just disappear in order to avoid the conversation.

“Yes,” finally came the whispered response. “I'm sorry. I just went to see how you were doing and... I knew I shoulda just turned around and walked away, but I didn't.”

“Why?”

“Because...” Steve's adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed heavily. Visibly steeling himself, the blond turned to Tony. “Because two hundred years ago I somehow died. And since then I haven't been able to feel anything. No matter what's going on around me, my body just doesn't respond. I don't feel hunger, thirst, warmth or cold, and I don't – I just don't feel urges of any sort. Watching you it was like I could suddenly almost remember what those things were like.”

Tony tried to imagine what that would be like: wanting to feel so badly that watching someone else feel was almost good enough. Existing for over two hundred years and not being able to do anything or feel anything sounded like torture to him. It was still flattering, that this gorgeous man hadn't been able to look away from him. He'd been drunk, after all, so he doubted his technique had been particularly refined.

“Well, I guess I am good looking, so I can hardly fault you for wanting to watch,” he drawled, a playful smirk suddenly on his lips.

Steve snorted. “Don't read too much into it,” he retorted. “You're the first living person to inhabit this house since Anthony Stark moved out.”

“And did you watch him too?”

“What?!” Steve's went wide, scandalized. “No, of course not! He was a friend. I would never–”

Tony burst out laughing. Although part of him was definitely relieved that Steve hadn't just been drawn to him because he reminded him of Anthony Stark.

“Holy shit! I feel like quoting Shakespeare here, 'cause that's a lot of protesting you're doing there. But I believe you, so I won't.”

Steve looked away. “Anthony was a good man and a very good friend of mine. I'd been friends with his dad, Howard, too but not like with Anthony. I owe him a lot. We all do, really. More than we ever realized at the time.”

Tony stepped closer to Steve. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to belittle your friendship. To me and everyone else around me, Anthony Stark is just a name in the history books. I didn't realize it would be different for you, because you actually knew him.”

Steve sighed and turned to look back to Tony. The sun's rays were almost gone by now, leaving him partially illuminated and partially cast in shadow. “No, you're right, it was such a long time ago. But it's difficult to move on from a loss when you have nothing else to dwell on. Thor still sings long, epic poems about his sweetheart.”

Tony blinked. “Thor? As in Thor, the Prince of Asgard?”

Steve blinked and then frowned. “Yes. How did you know that?”

“Sif told me. I, uh, met her in the garden a couple nights ago. I'd totally forgotten you said one of you was named Thor.”

“The Lady Sif still comes here?” Steve looked happy to hear that. “Thor will be happy to hear that if he doesn't already know.”

“Wait, you know her?”

“Oh yes, she and the Warriors Three are great friends of Thor's. They'd come down to Midgard every once in a while with several caskets of Asgardian mead. Their visits always turned into a loud party of some sort. Sometimes movie marathons, 'cause Asgardians really like their epic stories. I saw the Lord of the Rings trilogy for the first time with them.”

Steve was grinning at the memory, so Tony decided not to spoil it. The last rays of sun were gone and in the darkness of twilight, Tony suddenly found the courage to ask. “So, how long can you keep your corporeal form? Natasha told me to ask.”

Steve's eyes snapped to him and then he groaned. “Natasha needs to mind her own business.”

Tony raised a brow, somehow feeling that once again this was another moment where Steve would be blushing bright red. It really was a shame he couldn't see that.

“But I don't? How interesting.” He stepped in closer and raised a hand to rest it on the curve of Steve's side, grinning as his eyes widened in disbelief and comprehension... and anticipation. “Tell me, Steve, would you like to do it again? To watch as I touch myself? Or, even better, would you like to watch me fall apart under _your_ touch? Watch me feel, knowing you're the one making me do so?”

Steve lowered his eyes and Tony held his breath, praying he'd read the situation right. For one, long moment there was only silence.

“Yes,” Steve finally answered. He raised his eyes again. These were the eyes out of his dreams, the intense blue eyes full of hunger and longing that speared Tony and froze him in place. Slowly, Steve reached out to gently cup the back of Tony's head and kissed his lips.

He'd expected Steve's lips to be cold. They weren't. They were like a searing brand against his own, as though there were a live current running through them, powerful enough to burn but not nearly enough to be deadly.

He felt wide, warm hands running down his sides, leaving behind those same tingles of electricity. He gasped into the kiss. And then those magical hands reached the bottom of his shirt and slipped underneath to touch skin. The sensation was overwhelming. Tiny pin-pricks danced across his skin; it felt like getting into a bath full of water that was just a degree too warm. While being drunk on champagne spiked with Crystalline Red Opium.

And then a thumb brushed over his nipple and Tony surged forward at the touch, his mouth falling away from Steve's. “Holy fuck,” he gasped out. “I thought ghosts were supposed to be cold.”

Steve paused and looked at him curiously. “I'm not?”

“No. Jesus fuck no.”

“Hmm...”

And then Steve was pulling Tony's shirt over his head. The cool air on his skin made him shiver, but the electrical feeling of Steve's hands still danced just beneath, making him feel feverish. With Steve's hands gone, he became aware of his erection painfully straining against his pants.

Then Steve's lips were back on his and Tony surged into the kiss, deepening it and swiping his tongue against them, inviting Steve's to play. Steve responded willingly, opening up and letting Tony take control. Tony nearly lost it at the thought of this large, powerful man submitting to his control. He stepped closer to rub his erection against Steve, automatically searching for a corresponding hardness.

Tony stopped and pulled back, feeling dazed but frowning unhappily as he looked down and confirmed the absolute lack of anything resembling arousal.

“I told you,” said Steve softly, looking sad and apologetic. And way too calm and put-together considering how Tony was feeling. “My body doesn't respond to anything anymore.”

“That's a fucking crime.”

Steve chuckled and then stepped in closer and leaned over to whisper in his ear. “'S alright, I enjoy watching you feel for both of us.”

Tony groaned. “That should not have sounded as sexy as it did,” he said breathlessly. Steve's corresponding dark chuckle went straight to his groin and Tony groaned again. He turned his head and noticed the mischievous glint in Steve's eyes just before the blond leaned down and swiped his tongue over Tony's right nipple.

Tony's legs gave out. “Holy shit!”

Strong arms caught him, carefully lowering him to the floor, while the warm, wet, electrifying tongue continued to lave attention to his nipple. He couldn't bring himself to do anything but feel, and in his mind he imagined sparks flying from Steve's touch. Cool hardwood beneath his back made him break out in goosepimples at the contrast against his overheated skin. The arms that had been holding him slithered away, one coming up to tweak his other nipple while the other left a trail of heated pinpricks of electricity along his side.

He could probably come like this, he thought even as he hips humped upwards, searching for friction Steve didn't seem in a hurry to give. He wanted to feel those electrifying hands on his cock.

“Steeeve,” he whined. “Please, oh god, please... I–I need...”

Steve's response was to hum, the sudden vibrations against Tony's sensitive nipple making him cry out. And then Steve took his fingers away from Tony's other nipple and replaced it with his tongue. After being exposed to the low sizzle of electricity in Steve's fingers, the wet warmth of his tongue on the already-sensitized nipple was an explosion of magnified sensation that took Tony's breath away. He was barely aware of nimble fingers undoing his fly until Steve was suddenly pulling away, leaving Tony dazed and panting, moaning in protest at the loss of that tongue. He gasped again when the restrictive embrace of his pants was pulled away and his cock was suddenly free.

“Fu–uck,” Tony managed to let out with a strangled cry.

Tony felt Steve pulling his shoes off and then his hands returned to the waistband of his boxers. Slowly, he pulled them down, letting the elastic drag ever-so-slightly over his cock and then brushing his hands along his thighs, sending sparks of electricity directly to his hard, leaking cock. Tony wasn't sure if he'd ever been harder, couldn't think well enough to remember. Steve finally had his boxers off and then ran his hands slowly up his legs, making Tony shake and moan with every inch of tingling electricity from his touch. He was only half-aware of spreading his legs.

Tony lifted himself onto his elbows despite muscles that shook and felt like wet noodles. Steve was still fully-dressed and Tony felt a pang of sadness at his inability to reciprocate. Or rather at the futility of trying. Steve must've felt his eyes on him because he looked up at the moment and Tony found himself once again in the line of those intense blue eyes, though he wished he could see them filled with passion and glazed over with lust. God, how magnificent this man would no doubt look in the throes of lust.

Right now, his body thrumming with built-up electric charge from Steve's hands and his mouth, he wanted nothing more than to come. His body ached for it.

“Steeeve,” he moaned, pleading for him to get on with it, to take him over the edge, let all that energy he'd been pouring into him explode back out.

Steve's eyes never left his as he leaned over and placed a single, gentle kiss on the inside of his thigh. Tony felt his breath catch, not daring to hope that Steve was about to do what he really, really hoped he was. Once again, the intense blue eyes took on that mischievous twinkle and then Steve crawled closer, like a giant blond predator, and licked one, long stripe up Tony's cock. Tony screamed and threw his head back. Steve didn't give him the chance to recover and Tony arms finally gave out on him as warm wet heat surrounded his cock inch, by marvelous inch, the electrical current whipping the sensation up to nearly unbearable levels. He shut his eyes and clenched his fists, to keep himself from coming so soon. This was torture and he didn't want it to end, preferably ever.

Steve swallowed and Tony might've keened desperately, but he wasn't really aware of it. In that moment nothing else existed except for Steve's mouth on his cock and the waves of pleasure that emanated outward from that spot. So intent on not coming was he that he didn't notice Steve's roaming hand, only vaguely aware as it cupped his ass and followed its curve. He didn't notice until Steve's hands pulled his asscheeks apart and fingers with sparks of sweet electrical current ran across his hole.

Tony screamed as the energy, the electrical wildfire he'd been holding back, exploded. White streaked across his vision.

The first thing he noticed when he opened his eyes was that it was finally dark outside. He felt pleasantly boneless, his mind quiet for the moment. It wouldn't last long; mindlessness wasn't a natural state for him, but he felt in no hurry to return to his usual thousand and one overlapping thoughts.

Suddenly a soft blanket was being eased over him. Tony blinked and looked up, surprised not to see Steve standing above him.

“Sorry, I seem to have reached the limits of my corporeal existence,” said Steve's voice from the thin air.

Tony blinked. “You can touch things even when you're invisible?” he asked.

“Hm, yeah, takes less effort than being visible.” A moment later, Steve appeared sitting down next to him, leaning against the glass window, but it was like the Steve he'd first found in this room – only half in this world and translucent, insubstantial. His eyes were closed and he looked like he was concentrating. He opened them and looked down at Tony with an apologetic smile. “Sorry, this is as good as I can make it. How are you feeling?”

“Me? Pretty sure I can't move 'cause you've turned my muscles to complete and absolute mush, but otherwise great, amazing even. I could definitely get used to that.”

Steve ducked his head with a small, pleased smile. “Good, I'm glad. And thank you.”

“You're welcome, anytime. Like, seriously, _anytime_. Well, except for right now, 'cause I couldn't get it up without overdose-level medication right now.”

Steve laughed. “Okay, got it.”

Time passed in silence but Tony, for once, felt no inclination to disturb it. It was comfortable, and at some point, Steve had begun running his hand through Tony's hair. If Tony had been a cat he would've been purring. He also couldn't help notice how Steve kept getting more translucent by the minute.

He was barely more than an outline when suddenly something occurred to Tony. “So, if your bodies don't react to anything, why did Bruce get so crazy mad?”

“Anger is an emotion and with him... well, let's just say his anger tends to manifest in a way that's different to everyone else. When he died, that other thing went with him. We don't really know how it works that way, but it did with him.”

“Okay, I can sort of accept that, but do you know what it was that made him so angry? I mean, we were talking about some pretty fucked up stuff that made both me and Hank sick and angry, but he was fine up until he saw the neural inhibitor.”

Steve was silent for a long moment. “Ask Jarvis to show you the files on the Hulkbusters,” he said just before he finally disappeared completely.

“Steve?”

There was no answer. Tony knew he would later wake up sore, but right now he wanted to stay right where he was, knowing Steve was sitting beside him even if he couldn't see him anymore.

 

* * *

 

The first thing he noticed when he woke up was how his hips and back ached from the hard floor, though his limbs still had that relaxed feeling he got the morning after a truly spectacular orgasm. Funny – that feeling was so much more amazing when not accompanied by a hangover. Slowly, carefully, and like he was on his way to being a hundred years old, he got to his feet, groaning at the pain in his back.

It was still dark outside, so probably the middle of the night. Looking out the wall of windows, he could see a few stars visible through the light pollution and smog of the city. He wondered if there'd been more stars in the sky two hundred years ago. Had Steve and his friends spent the past two hundred years lost and confused, dwelling on what they'd lost, could no longer have, while they'd watched the stars disappear from the sky?

Tony shook his head. He was getting maudlin and it didn't suit him. He looked down at himself and noticed he was still naked, though the blanket was certainly large enough to preserve whatever modesty Steve imagined he still had. He smiled fondly and draped the blanket over himself as he gathered his clothes up. They were sitting neatly folded next to his shoes by the window Steve had been leaning against.

He yawned as he walked out of the ballroom, wondering whether to go back to bed or start on the new lead Steve had given him.

“Jarvis,” he finally said as he began to make his way up the stairs to his room. “I'm going to go take a shower. In the meantime, please compile all the files on the Hulkbusters for me. Uh, send them to the computer terminals down in the lab.”

There was a long pause.

 _“The Hulkbusters, sir?”_ Jarvis finally asked, sounding oddly apprehensive.

Tony frowned. “Um, yeah, Steve told me to ask you for the files.”

_“Oh, I see. In that case I shall have the files ready for you when you're done.”_

“Uh, Jarvis, I thought you could see everything that went on in the house? So wouldn't you have overheard our conversation?”

_“Unfortunately, I am unable to see or hear Captain Rogers and the others. I have been aware of their existence inside the house for quite some time, however they are only able to communicate with me through the use of moving objects and the written word.”_

“Oh.” Tony's frown deepened. “Wait, who's Captain Rogers?”

_“My apologies, sir, habits of a lifetime are difficult to break. I was referring to Captain Steven Rogers, whom you and the others prefer to address as 'Steve'.”_

“Really? Okay then, that's good to know.” That meant at least two of the 'ghosts' were former military, although he didn't remember seeing dog tags on Steve. Not that he'd been paying a whole lot of attention to what was dangling around Steve's neck.

Later, with a cup of coffee – that he'd brewed himself because there was no need to wake Vision up for a simple cup of coffee – and a leftover chocolate chip muffin, he sat down to one of the computer terminals in the lab and began pouring over the Hulkbuster file. It was a very big file.

And, as it turned out, an angry Bruce Banner could actually do quite a lot of damage.

 

* * *

 

“Please tell me whatever Tony dragged you out of bed for at five in the morning was actually important, or at the very least worth it,” said Jan as she walked into Hank's lab.

“Uh huh,” came the absent reply from the bedraggled figure hunched over a computer console. He was still only wearing the pyjama pants he'd slipped on after Tony's entirely unwelcome wake-up call.

Jan rolled her eyes and set a mug of coffee next to his hand. When not even that provoked a sign of life, she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. That finally startled Hank out of his staring contest with the screen.

He looked over at her in bewilderment. “Oh, hi Jan,” he said. “When did you get here?”

“Just now,” she said, smiling down at him fondly and running a hand through his messy hair. “I brought you coffee.”

He blinked and then sniffed the air. “Thanks, Jan,” he said. He picked up the mug she'd brought and took a tentative sip. Jan bit her lip at the gesture. He always did that: took a first small sip of his drink, as though testing it before he committed himself to anything more. She found it adorable.

“So, this thing Tony sent you... is it important?” she asked again.

“It's to do with Vision's implant. Apparently, he talked to Steve after we left and Steve told him to ask Jarvis for some specific files. It's to do with what Bruce got so angry about. A lot of this is really more my field than his, and since we were working on it together...”

“...and because Tony Stark doesn't know the meaning of normal daytime hours...”

“Exactly. Anyway, it really is fascinating stuff. I mean, horrible, but fascinating.”

“Okay, well you have fun with that. I have a meeting with a potential client in an hour, but I'll come by later to bring you lunch.”

“Okay then, see you at lunch then.”

Jan sighed as Hank turned back to the files he was reading and was quickly reabsorbed into the science before him. She'd known too many scientists for too long to be offended by it anymore. In fact, when she returned five hours later, he was still there, the crinkled-up energy bar wrapper on the corner of the workstation being the only indication he'd moved at all. Not that Jan didn't appreciate the view, but she would've appreciated it much more if there had been a shower involved somewhere.

She grabbed the back of his chair and pulled him away from the console. “Hey!” he protested as his workstation got further and further away.

“Nope, shower first, then there will be lunch and _then_ you can get back to science,” she said firmly. “I'll te– ask, sorry. I'll ask Pirouette to make you a plate of food and bring it down.”

Hank sighed. “Alright, Jan,” he said and left to go shower.

After calling up to Pirouette and asking her to prepare lunch for two, she sat at Hank's workstation to take a look at what he and Tony were researching. She still couldn't believe she'd spent years treating Pirouette like nothing more than an expensive toy when she was really a living, breathing person. A very much not-stupid person. Pirouette had always been intuitive to Jan's moods, known when to come and just sit next to her, when to bake her favourite cookies and when to clear the dining room table because Jan was feeling inspired. She definitely would've known something was wrong when they came home last night and Jan had thrown herself at the bio-droid, squeezing her neck tightly and telling her she cared for her because she was her friend.

What would Pirouette be like without the brainwashing? Would she be happy to be free of the mental manipulation; would she hate Janet for her part in what had happened to her and the other bio-droids?

Hank found her skimming through to the interesting parts of the files Tony had sent him. Most of it flew right over her head, but she got the gist of some of it. Enough to make her both scared and very, very angry. “It's some pretty weird stuff, huh?” said Hank as he pulled over another chair.

“Yeah, weird is one way to describe it,” Jan retorted. “It also reads like a whole lot of stupid mistakes that gave some men with power an excuse to make even more stupid, evil mistakes. I mean, seriously? I'm sure Bruce Banner is as brilliant as his files here say he is, but the military gave him some sort of serum to use as a base for his experiments and he never questioned where it came from?!”

“Well, the idea of creating a way to make soldiers invulnerable to high levels of radiation is a noble one.”

“Yes, but injecting yourself with an experimental, never-before-tested serum is stupid.”

“It's the sort of thing Tony would do, actually.”

“Not exactly. Tony would drunk-build a contraption with either wheels or a hover platform or something and then would put a helmet on and test it the next day to see if it was any good.”

“Which isn't actually any less reckless,” Hank insisted.

“Yeah, okay, point there.”

The door to the lab slid open and they both turned to look. Pirouette walked into the room carrying a tray with two plates of stir-fry with rice and orange juice. Hank rolled his eyes at the meal, but didn't comment on the obvious attempt to fill him with vegetables and vitamins. Jan would've denied it anyway.

“Thank you, Pirouette,” Jan said cheerfully. Pirouette was more slender than Vision, her face narrower, headcover a bright yellow and skin a leafy green. She wore a pink dress that fell just above her knees and silver high-top flat shoes. Jan suddenly wondered why the bio-droids were all made with such odd colouring. Was it simply to distinguish them from regular humans or to make them look so odd that it kept people from guessing they were actual living beings?

“Still as reckless as injecting yourself with an experimental serum is, the tech these 'Hulkbusters' came up with in order to contain Bruce Banner's creation is extraordinary,” Hank continued. “Actually, the very existence of this creature, the Hulk, is in itself extraordinary. I mean, how exactly could that work? Have you seen any of the transformation videos? It defies all laws of physics, biology and just plain logic!”

“Videos? There are videos?”

Hank's enthusiasm was, as always, contagious. At least to Jan, who raised an eyebrow in amusement. She watched as her boyfriend scrolled through the files in an attempt to find the videos he'd seen, all the while talking quietly about how the VINS were definitely based off the tech the Hulkbusters had designed for subduing the Hulk and preventing Banner from transforming.

Neither one of them noticed when Pirouette froze in the middle of pouring juice. For a moment, her eyes widened and showed such deep anguish that it would've torn at their souls had they seen it. Then she blinked and all emotion was gone.

Hank didn't find the videos, but instead found a collection of grainy photos. Jan gaped at them. “Holy shit, that's the Hulk?! That's insane! How can a person get so big and... _green_ in ten seconds?”

“Hm, admittedly, the green colour is most peculiar, but according to a few of the reports it's due to the presence of gamma radiation in his bloodstream.”

“Wait, did that make him big, really strong, green and radioactive?”

“Uh, I don't think he was actively radioactive...” Hank skimmed through the file in front of him, lost in thought.

The sharp sound of glass shattering made them both jump.

They swung around in their seats to see what was the matter. Pirouette was standing ramrod straight and seemingly uncaring about the fallen glass jug, or the juice that was now spreading out all over the lab floor. The yellow jewel in the centre of her forehead was glowing and her eyes were completely void of emotion.

“Doctor Henry Pym and Ms Janet Van Dyne, by order of the Government of the United States of America and under the mandate of the United World Council, you have been found guilty of vigilantism. The punishment for undermining the peace and order of society is death. May God have mercy on your souls.”

“Pirouette?” Jan asked softly. “What are you doing? We're not vigilantes; we're trying to help you. To free you.”

Slowly, Hank stepped around his chair and grabbed Jan hand. “Jan, somehow I don't think she can hear you.”

The jewel's glow brightened until it began to pulse.

“Pirouette, please fight it!”

The bio-droid turned to look at her and Jan felt a surge of hope that maybe, just maybe she'd managed to get through to her. A beam of light shot out from the jewel.

“Jan!”

Suddenly, she found herself pulled to the side. She shrieked in surprise. She fell to the floor, tangled up with Hank, while behind her the computer console exploded in a flash of light and sparks. She glanced up to Pirouette. The jewel's glow hadn't diminished in the slightest.

“Shit,” she said under her breath and immediately scrambled off of Hank. Grabbing Hank's chair with both hands, she threw it at the bio-droid with all her might. As much as she didn't want to hurt Pirouette, letting her kill them wasn't going to help anyone.

Pirouette didn't flinch, using her arm to knock the chair out of the way. The jewel pulsed. Jan and Hank ran, lunging behind the heavy-duty lab table just as another yellow beam aimed at them. Jan's eyes widened when she saw the size of the dark black scorch mark it left on the floor.

“Okay, what the hell do we do now?” she said, her voice trembling with adrenaline and fear.

Beside her, Hank looked equally terrified. “I don't know,” he said. “She's between us and the only exit. Unless you're two inches tall – in which case you could always use the air vents.”

Jan snorted. “Too bad we don't have the Stark Manor's man-sized vent shafts. Now all we need is to be – oh my god Hank that's it!” She shoved him forward along the lab table and crawled quickly after him.

They got to the other end of the lab table just as Pirouette rounded from the other side. She cocked her head and then braced herself with both hands against the end of the big, heavy table.

Jan shoved Hank towards the back of the lab. “Go get the vault open! I'll distract her.”

Hank gave her an incredulous look. “The vault?! But that's–”

“Just go!”

Then Pirouette shoved the table forward. Jan yelped and jumped to the side as it flew backwards with a loud screech of metal and wood on tile, before hitting the wall with a crash. Jan gaped. She hadn't realized bio-droids were quite this strong. And now they really were trapped, the long table cutting them off from the door unless they somehow leapt over it. Jan scrambled for something, anything to distract the bio-droid with. There had to be something. The only person who knew this lab better than she did was Hank.

The jewel on Pirouette's forehead pulsed. Jan backed up, staying low and feeling her way along the lab table. The panel she wanted lit up just as another yellow beam of light shot out from the jewel. Jan pressed three keys and then flung herself out of the way. Pain seared across her arm and she screamed. Somewhere in the distance she was aware of Hank calling her name. She forced her eyes open. It had worked: three small fire-extinguishing drones were hovering in the air around Pirouette's head, attracted by the heat generated by the jewel. They were a minor nuisance, but as long as they were in her way, the bio-droid couldn't aim properly at Jan or Hank.

Just then something landed on the ground in front of Pirouette and Jan recognized the automatic firestarter seconds before there was a small pop and the block of grey clay burst into flame. The drones immediately began dousing the area with foam.

“Jan, quick, over here!” she heard Hank call desperately.

Wincing, Jan dragged herself to her feel and ran over to the vault. She heard a crash behind her and figured one of the drones must've been downed. Hank was holding the vault door open for her. She saw him look behind her and his eyes widen. Jan pumped her legs faster. Hank reached out for her, yelling at her to hurry up, to go faster. Just as soon as she was close enough, Hank grabbed her by the hand, adding his strength to her inertia. Between the two of them she flew into the vault and Hank let go of the door. It shut softly, settling in with a hiss, just as the beam hit it.

The door held and Janet sagged into Hank's arms. He rested his forehead against the top of her head for a moment and took a deep breath.

“Okay, so we're locked inside the vault with no way out, so what now” Hank finally asked.

Suddenly there was a dull impact against the vault wall. A few seconds later, there was another one.

“Fuck, is she trying to punch her way in?” said Jan. “And, more importantly, _can_ she do that?”

Hank grimaced. “The vault door is strong, but it's not that strong. And, again, we have no way out of here that doesn't involve going through Pirouette.”

Jan took a deep breath. “Wrong.” She pointed at the small grate at floor level. “We only need to be two inches tall.”

Hank frowned. “Yes, but we're not. And we have no way to become two inches tall.” At Jan's pointed look, his eyes widened. “No, Jan, we can't use that. We have no idea if it works.”

“You said you and Tony managed to fix the problem.”

“Yes, so now it'll probably not kill us instead of definitely, which I'll admit is a marketed improvement, but it still hasn't been properly tested.”

“Hank, I'll take possible death over definite death in a heartbeat, which is pretty much our choice at this moment.”

Hank opened his mouth as if to protest and then slowly closed it. They heard another punch and this time an indentation appeared in the door. With a sigh, he walked over to a locker in the back and opened it to reveal two sets of helmets and straps.

“Okay, I'll have to show you how to use it,” he said.

A short while later, after Pirouette had deformed the door to the point that the locking mechanism didn't work anymore, she pushed the heavy metal door to the side and walked into the vault. It was empty. She looked around, opened every door and cupboard and eventually concluded that there was, in fact no one in the room.

 

* * *

 

“Genri.”

The Mandarin turned away from the sight of the fallen city to the only person who still called him that. They were alone on the observation deck, which he'd already guessed – given the use of his name. Mei would never undermine him in front of the crew, not even in such a small way. He sometimes wondered if she loved him. He sometimes wondered if he loved her.

“Mei.,” he greeted her, returning her smile with his own wooden twisting of lips. “Did Saoh complete his mission?”

“Yes, he said finding the Red Room database was the difficult part. He and his team are back on-board now. Would you like us to get ready for departure?”

“Yes. Thank you, Mei.”

“You're welcome.”

With another smile and a small nod, Mei turned on her heel and headed back to her post on the bridge. The Mandarin turned back to watch dispassionately as Moscow, the once-mighty city, burned.


	13. Chapter 12

Tony raced into the kitchen and then stopped. It was empty. There was, however, a full pot of coffee sitting on the counter and he happily let it momentarily distract him from his search.

“Jarvis, do you know where Vision is?” he said Actually, he probably should've done that first, before he'd gone tearing across the house.

_“He is currently in the cold cellar doing an inventory of supplies. Would you like me to ask him to come up, sir?”_

Tony shook his head. “Nah, I'll catch him later. There's something I wanted to take a look at in the drawing room library anyway. Also, don't we have an automatic inventory scanner?”

_“As one has never been installed, no.”_

“Hm, put that on the list of things to fix.”

_“Yes, sir.”_

Tony picked up his coffee and the energy scanner he'd brought to scan Vision with under his arm. It was difficult to tell, but after taking another look at Jarvis' scans, he had a feeling the gem on Vision's forehead could possibly hold a power source. And even a power source that small would give off some form of energy. If he could identify the type of energy, it could give him a clue as to what the gem's purpose was. The neural-inhibitor's purpose was obvious, but the gem? It was clearly more than just useless decoration, because every bio-droid he'd ever seen had one and it was always the same colour.

Looking out the kitchen window, he was surprised to note it was dark outside again. Or was that still dark? No, he distinctly remembered eating breakfast and he was fairly certain there'd been another burger involved somewhere since then. And, huh, Hank hadn't called him back yet, which wasn't actually all that unusual if he'd gotten caught up in the science Tony sent him. Except that he had Jan to drag him away from it periodically...

Tony decided to call him later, after he'd checked out the library in the drawing room. Bruce was, unfortunately, avoiding him and no amount of whining, pleading and cajoling could produce him from thin air. Of course, he hadn't seen Steve again either. Which didn't necessarily mean he wasn't there. Tony had no idea how long it would take him to be able to appear visible again after he'd stretched himself to the limit like that.

Tony walked into the drawing room and placed the scanner on the desk before stalking over to the shelves, determinedly not thinking about how Steve had stretched himself to the limit. Looking through books was boring enough; he'd never be able to concentrate if he was aroused.

He stared at the rows and rows of books in dismay. “Uh, Jarvis, do you know if Anthony had any of Bruce Banner's work in the library? I know there's nothing in the Tower library, because I didn't recognize the name, but if he was friends and colleagues with the man then I'd assume he'd have at least some of his published work collected somewhere.”

_“I'm afraid the vast majority of Doctor Banner's work had been classified by the United States Armed Forces at the time and thus never published. However there are copies of his Phd thesis and several papers he published before accepting employment with them. You will find them on the far left, three shelves from the bottom, twelves books from the right.”_

“Thanks, Jarvis.” With those incredibly specific directions, Tony was easily able to find the books and several bound articles, all of which looked like they were likely to fall apart the moment he touched them. 'The Mutative Effects of Gamma Radiation on Organic Matter', one of the papers read. He raised an eyebrow at the title.

Taking his small pile to the couch, Tony placed the cup of coffee on a low solid oak table and settled in to read – or at least skim over to the relevant bits. He finished the first paper quickly and threw it onto the table. As he was reaching over for the second of the pile, a small light shining from the desk caught his attention. He frowned and then stood, walking cautiously over to the desk as though his movements would change the readings.

He'd apparently turned the scanner on by accident and now it was picking up energy readings right here in the drawing room, which boasted electrical sockets as its most advanced technology.

“Jarvis, is there a generator beneath this room or something?” he asked, puzzled.

_“No, sir, there is not.”_

“Okay, then why is the scanner picking up energy readings?”

_“I do not know, sir.”_

Tony paused. “You don't know as in it's not in your accessible database or you don't know how you didn't know Lady Sif?”

_“I think you'll find, sir, that those were not the words I used.”_

Tony whirled on the room, wishing he at least had a hologram of Jarvis he could look in the eye no matter how meaningless the image would be. “Oh, I'm aware of that. You said she wasn't in any government databases, which she wouldn't be given that she's from another planet or dimension or whatever the hell Asgard counts as! But _you_ did know who she was, because Steve said she and Thor's friends had been to the manor several times to visit, get drunk and party. So I'm calling bullshit, Jarvis!”

Suddenly, Tony's eyes widened as his mind caught up with his mouth. “Holy shit, you're lying to me. You're actually _lying to me_... Fuck, and you warned me about that, didn't you? Right when you first introduced yourself to me, you made a point of mentioning that you were capable of passing the Turing Test. And I was just so excited about the artificial intelligence part that I'd been completely blind to what that meant. That Turing said that the test of a true artificial intelligence is the ability to be creative, to lie. You told me straight out that you were going to lie to me and I wasn't listening!”

_“If it helps, sir, I am deeply sorry, but my mandate is to first and foremost protect the secrets of those who were first in my care.”_

Tony waved a hand in front of him. “Uh no, you're not getting away with that. You're making yourself sound like nothing but a computer program now, but you're not, are you?”

There was a pause and then Jarvis' voice came back sounding much warmer than before. _“My apologies, sir. My first and foremost desire is to protect my friends and their secrets.”_

“Much better.” Tony grinned. “Loyalty should've also been a test of artificial intelligence. You're a good friend, Jarvis, and I understand that you can't really help me with this, but you know I can't just let it go. This is my house now, after all, and everyone who used to live here is dead. Well, sort of. I'm still not entirely convinced about the ghosts.”

_“I understand, sir. But be warned that the secrets this house harbours could mark you an enemy of the state.”_

Tony already had the scanner in his hand, but paused in his fiddling. He thought about that for a long while, considered Jarvis' words. “Thanks for the warning, but the state isn't exactly in my good books right now. The state is really just another arm of the United World Council and first those bastards tried to take my company away from me and then... well, the bio-droids are all created by them. If opposing them will make me a vigilante, then maybe that's what I need to be.”

Jarvis apparently didn't have anything to say to that, so Tony brought his attention back to the scanner in his hands. The energy signature wasn't particularly strong, but it was steady. Like a piece of heavy machinery on standby. Maybe the conduits for the mysterious power supply ran through here? It was one of the last places Tony would've gone looking for them, which actually made it the perfect hiding place.

The scanner's holoscreen pinpointed an alcove in the back as having the strongest signature. He eased around a marble statue of yet another half-naked woman – although this one was holding a sword in one hand and a knife in the other instead of the usual musical instrument. He stepped into the alcove and ran the scanner along the walls. They certainly felt like they were made of the same wood paneling as the rest of the drawing room, but the scanner showed low-level electrical current running just inside. He ran his hand along the area with the strongest concentration and then grinned as part of one of the panels slid up under his touch, revealing a touch-screen keypad.

“Eureka,” he whispered. It was simply a number pad, which meant a combination was probably required to get any further. Dammit, he needed his sonic tools for this. Or not. Tony felt along the outline of the keypad.

“Don't suppose you could just tell me the combination for this, Jarvis?” he called out, not really expecting an answer.

“1-2-0-6-2-0-1-1,” a familiar voice said instead.

Tony whirled around. “Steve?” But the alcove was empty. He scowled at the empty air before turning back to the keypad. Just as soon as he inputted the numbers, the keypad disappeared, replaced with a series of large icons several seconds later. Behind the icons, the screen had also acquired a large red 'A' inside a red circle in the background.

“Shit, the lagtime on this thing is ridiculous.” Tony looked over the new icons. They were oval-shaped and each contained two bold letters. After some slight hesitation, Tony tapped the first one, with the letters 'QP'.

The alcove began to vibrate and then, suddenly, a new wall slid into place across the entrance. Tony jumped at the sound, his eyes widening when he realized he was trapped. However, he barely had time to panic when a faint whirling sound came on and the next thing he knew, the alcove was moving. It was taking him down. “Fuck me, it's an elevator,” he said, awed at Anthony's ingenuity.

Less than minute later, the elevator stopped and the wall slid aside again. Tony stepped out into a small hangar. The bulk of it was taken up by a small plane, but off to one side, he could see two old motorcycles (one looked incredibly old) and a couple of cars. Actually... was that a mid-twentieth century Chevrolet convertible?! Tony immediately ran over to take a look.

The car was bright red and covered in a thick layer of dust, but it was definitely a Chevrolet. He knew car collectors who would sell off their own children for one of these! Not that he wanted their children. He popped the hood open and poked his head underneath, trying to figure out just how much work he'd need to do in order to make the car road-worthy.

Actually, finding a road that was car-worthy was probably going to be the bigger challenge. With the change to wheel-less transport, public roadworks had fallen by the wayside, except for bike paths for the health enthusiasts who seemed to breed in every century.

Deciding to come back later with his toolbox, Tony carefully closed the hood, sneezing as the motion caused dust to swarm his sinuses. He turned away from the car and turned his attention to the small plane. It looked like it had the capacity of about twenty people at most and resembled a twenty-first century fighter jet more than it did any sort of cargo carrier, its slim, sleek body clearly having been designed for speed. The same 'A' symbol he'd seen on the touchpad was painted on its tail.

As Tony looked around, wondering why Anthony would've needed to hide a transport bay under the manor. He saw a door at the far end of the hangar and debated for a moment as to whether or not he should find out where it led. In the end, he decided finding the power source was more important. So, instead, he walked back to the elevator and pressed the next icon. It read 'FL'.

The letters apparently stood for 'Fitness Level', he decided almost immediately. Walking along the corridor, he saw a large room full of what looked like exercise equipment. Treadmills and bikes apparently didn't change much over the years, only got less bulky and awkward-looking. There were also two large gyms, one of which looked like it had built-in holographic projectors and the other half taken up by a boxing ring. There were also showers and lockers. And another door.

Tony opened the door carefully and found a stairwell that continued down a long way. This time he took the stairs to see if they branched out anywhere other than the elevator floors. The stairwell was dimly-lit and the air was stale, indicating the air vents had either stopped functioning a long time ago, or been shut down to save power. There were cameras at every bend with no attempt made to disguise them, the way it'd been done throughout the rest of the house. His footsteps were the only sound, which was both disconcerting and disappointing. Tony figured a spooky corridor like this should've a least had the sound of some incongruously-dripping water along with a few rustles and squeaks.

Finally, he made it to the next door. This one had a simple security pad, which he managed to quickly override. On the other side was a conference room. Tony raised an eyebrow at the set-up. There were writing boards built into the walls and several television screens hanging down on mounts from the ceiling. He also couldn't help but notice the primitive holographic projectors built into the large wooden table along with what looked a lot like docking stations for computer interfaces along the sides. Looked like conference rooms hadn't changed much over the years.

He wandered through the room and out the door at the other end.

The next room was huge. There was some equipment along the sides, but the raised dais in the centre was what really caught his attention. Mostly because the large, grainy projection was showing images from CNN. Current images from CNN, if the date and time stamp in the top corner was accurate.

“Fuck,” he swore as he came closer and recognized the Kremlin's tower among the rubble. Then came a series of images from Prague, the majestic cathedral of Saint Vitus that had once taken over six hundred years to finish, now a crumbled ruin in the courtyard, its bricks and mortar mixing with those of Prague Castle. Only George continued to slay his dragon, the statue somehow having managed to have survived the carnage intact.

What was going on? Was this the United World Council's doing? Was that why they weren't responding or sending in their armies to stop the slaughter?

_“Sir, I regret to interrupt you, however Ms Potts has arrived and is looking for you. It appears to be rather urgent.”_

Tony blinked. “Pepper? Wait, I thought it was late. What time is it?”

_“It is sixteen minutes after nine in the evening.”_

Then whatever it was had to be very urgent. Pepper never came this late otherwise. “Okay, uh, where's the elevator on this level?”

 

* * *

 

“Tony!”

Pepper raced into the foyer of Stark Manor and froze, her facing falling in dismay. Right, she realized, this wasn't the penthouse at the Tower; simple yelling was not going to produce Tony. The manor was huge and he could be anywhere. In fact, he was most likely in the lab. Where he couldn't hear her from the foyer. Although that still didn't explain why he hadn't been answering her calls.

She heard footsteps coming from the hall behind the staircase and headed in that direction. It was Vision. The bio-droid was walking in her direction, holding a coffee mug in his hand. And where there was coffee, there was inevitably Tony Stark. “Vision!” she called to him. “Do you know where Tony is?”

Vision stopped and tilted his head, as though slightly confused by her casual attire. “Good evening, Ms Potts. I'm afraid I don't know where Mister Stark is. I took his dinner to the lab and he wasn't there. Jarvis told me he'd gone to look up something in the drawing room library. I found his coffee mug there, however the coffee has gone cold.”

Pepper sighed. “He probably got some sort of sort of sudden inspiration and left it there. I'd wonder if he was in bed, but Tony would keel over before going to bed at nine on his own. I really hope he hasn't gone out to a club.”

“I will search for him, Ms Potts. Would you like some coffee in the meantime?”

“No, that's fine, but thanks. I'll try calling him again.”

Pepper tapped the jewel on her comm bracelet and hit the first name on the holoscreen. It blinked to indicate the bracelet was dialing and then abruptly stopped. The same damned 'We're sorry your call cannot be connected' message popped up, the way it had the last dozen times she'd called. She dismissed the holoscreen with a frustrated noise.

“Ms Potts?”

She turned to Vision, who was looking at her with a slightly odd – thoughtful perhaps – expression on his face.

“Do you know why Mister Stark is looking into my base program code?”

Pepper froze. Then she took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of her nose to push down the scream she desperately wanted to make. “If this is all his fault I am going to kill him. Actually kill him,” she muttered. Then she looked back to the bio-droid. “No, I'm sorry, Vision, I have absolutely no idea why Tony is looking at your base code. But I'm sure he _thinks_ he has a good reason and I'll make it a point to find out exactly what it is.”

Vision nodded before heading off. A few moments later, Pepper heard him softly going up the stairs. She sighed.

_“Good evening Ms Potts. I have informed Mister Stark that you are looking for him. He is on his way up now.”_

Pepper jumped at the sound of Jarvis' voice. “Oh, good evening Jarvis. And thank you. I really need to talk to him.” She frowned. “Where is he anyway?”

_“Examining some old antiques left behind by Master Anthony.”_

“Of course he is. Jarvis, could you please tell Vision that Tony's been found?”

_“Of course, I will do so immediately.”_

“Thank you, Jarvis.”

“Pepper!” Tony yelled from down the corridor.

She frowned in confusion as the whirlwind that was an excited Tony Stark ran out of the drawing room. The room Vision had just come from. Tony panted as he drew to a halt.

“What are you doing here so late? You never show up this late. Also I see you're dressed casual which means this isn't a planned visit. Is something wrong? I mean other than the fact that apparently Moscow and Prague were attacked this afternoon, but you could've called me for that.”

“Yes, I could have,” she interrupted him forcefully, silencing him with a well-practiced glare. “And if you'd _answered_ your comm bracelet I wouldn't have had to come all the way down here.”

Tony blinked and looked down at the bracelets on his wrist. Sure enough, the jewel on his comm bracelet was blinking bright red. His eyes widened. “But it didn't vibrate. Seriously, I swear I wasn't avoiding you Pepper. It just didn't vibrate... Jarvis, are the lower levels shielded?”

There was a pause. Tony rolled his eyes. “Oh come on, Jarvis, I've already found them and you know I'm going to tell Pepper regardless of whether or not you answer me.”

_“Yes, the lower levels are shielded. Anthony put every conceivable measure in place to ensure the lower levels remained undetected by his enemies. In addition, there is also background interference from the power source that runs the Manor's security systems.”_

“Aha! So there is a power source down there!”

_“Indeed, sir.”_

Pepper closed her eyes and took a deep breath. This was excited, in-the-middle-of-a-project, easily-distracted Tony. The terrified, wide-eyed panic she'd been trying to smother for the past hour and a half was threatening to overwhelm her again. She could feel herself starting to shake slightly and clenched her fists.

“Tony,” she said between gritted teeth. “Hank and Jan have been declared enemies of the state!”

That got his attention. Tony froze and looked to her, mouth gaping open, mid-sentence. “Wh-what? When did this happen?”

“This afternoon, apparently. The news didn't say what they did, only that the United States Police Force has added them to the Vigilante Database.” She took a deep breath. “Tony, Vision said you were looking into his code. Please, please tell me that has nothing to do with this.”

Tony remained silent for a very long time, his face serious and eyes shining with grief – and guilt. “I'm afraid I can't do that, Pep,” he finally whispered.

Pepper felt her world fall apart. For all his risks, all his gambles, Tony was usually so careful to make sure no one else got hurt by the things he did. He'd once told her that he'd made a vow to himself that he would never again let anyone else get hurt because of his own carelessness. He never did tell her why he'd made this particular vow, but she had ears and, especially in the early days of her employment, heard many of the rumours that circulated around Stark Tower. Rumours about a nightclub and a fire that had never made it to the news.

“Tony, how could you?” The words sounded harsh even to her own ears, but she couldn't help the anger, the resentment. “They were your friends.”

Tony chuckled bitterly, a spark of anger mingling with the grief in his eyes. “You say that as though I forced them or tricked them into doing whatever it is you think I did. As though I could ever force Janet Van Dyne into anything.” He looked up to meet her eyes. They were hard, the anger a single spark away from fury. “Is that what you think of me, Pepper? Well, for the record, I didn't. All I did was show them some images. Everything else was their choice.”

Pepper felt a stab of guilt, but refused to give ground. Whatever this was, it was what had been bothering the three of them yesterday. “Tony, hacking the bio-droid spec chips is illegal.”

“Yes, and have you ever considered why?”

Pepper frowned. “What do you mean, why?”

“It's a simple question – in fact I think that's the world's biggest problem right now. There's not enough people asking 'why'. And the people who do are being silenced. Like Jan and Hank, although now that I think of it, that's actually really strange. I mean, I used an encrypted personal Network line to transfer the data to them, so how did the government figure them out? And, more to the point, how have they not traced it back to me?”

“Does it matter?”

“Of course it does! It might even be the most important piece of the puzzle yet.”

Pepper sighed. “Tony, that doesn't change the fact that what you did was illegal. As in against the law.”

She could almost see the wheels in Tony's head pause in their perpetual turning. He turned to her with an odd look in his eye. “You know, I'm starting to think that maybe, sometimes, it's more important to do the right thing.”

_“For evil to flourish, it only requires good men to do nothing.”_

Tony looked up towards the ceiling. “That's profound, Jarvis, very profound.”

_“Thank you, sir, although I'm afraid the credit goes to a twentieth century Austrian author by the name of Simon Wiesenthal.”_

“Jarvis, you're agreeing with him?!” Pepper asked incredulously. The AI seemed to be a rather practical, well, individual. She couldn't believe he would condone this.

_“Yes, Ms Potts, I'm afraid that, in this instance, I am. I believe once sir has properly explained, you will understand.”_

There was an unspoken ending to that sentence, she could feel it. Not a warning as such, but rather an 'or you aren't the person I thought you were'. “Okay, fine. Tony, you have ten minutes to convince me this is worth it. Because if the government comes after you, it'll be all of Stark Industries that suffers, not just you.”

That, she could immediately tell, was in fact something Tony had forgotten, probably too caught up in whatever he was chasing to stop and think it through. Pepper saw the moment he finally understood the full scope of what he was risking: the entire Stark legacy and all the thousands of people in his employ. And then she watched as he clenched his teeth and squared his chin, his eyes becoming more serious than she'd ever seen them.

“Pep, I don't really think it's a question of whether or not I'm willing to risk anything, but whether or not I'll be able to live with myself if I don't. Look, just come with me to the lab and I'll... no, maybe the drawing room...”

Tony trailed off as he stared at something behind her. She heard the footsteps and turned to see what had captivated Tony's attention so thoroughly. It was just Vision, walking towards them, empty-handed. She frowned and looked back to Tony. The genius was staring at Vision, wide-eyed with realization and sorrow. He blinked, and the expression was gone.

“Vision!” he exclaimed instead. “Sorry to have worried you. I was just doing some exploring. Found another one of Anthony's stashes and got distracted. You know how it is. Listen, me and Pepper have got some important stuff to discuss, could you make us some coffee and maybe a bite to eat? I'm famished.”

Vision cocked his head to the side, apparently his programming was unable to comprehend the concept of Tony asking for food. Pepper bit her lips to stop the threatening smile from making it to her face.

“Very well, sir. Where should I bring it?”

“The, uh, drawing room.”

Vision nodded and then left for the kitchen. Moments later, Pepper found herself being dragged down the hall in the opposite direction by Tony. Normally she would've protested the manhandling, but the quiet urgency in his steps made her decide to let it slide just this once.

Tony made sure to close the door after them and then told Pepper to sit down. She sat on one end of the couch and watched in silence as Tony brought up the screen on his holopad and then enlarged the image.

“Okay, so these are the blueprints I got from the data-chip,” he said.

Pepper groaned. “You copied them?! That's even more illegal.”

“Hm, yeah, I suppose it is.” She glared at his unconcerned tone, but he ignored her as he tapped away. “Doesn't matter though, they don't work anyway. Now, _this_ is Jarvis' scan of Vision.”

She'd been ready with a retort on the tip of her tongue, ready to remind Tony that not being an engineer, she wouldn't be able to tell the difference. She stared at the image for several long moments while her eyes took it in and relayed it to her mind. Her jaw dropped.

 

* * *

 

Tony woke up with a cut-off scream that was more of a harsh gasp. For a moment, he wasn't sure where he was. The vestiges of his dream propelling him, he frantically tore at the blanket he was tangled into, kicking and pulling at it in his desperation to just have it _off_. Finally, _finally_ it was gone and he was free and scrambling as far away from the bindings as he could, until the headboard wouldn't let him go any further. He drew his knees up, chest heaving and sweat-soaked skin suddenly chilled in the cool evening air as he reached up to feel his bare neck, the lack of containment cast calming him slightly. In his mind's eye, he could still feel the arms restraining him, could see the faceless labcoats surrounding him as Vision watched from the corner with an expression of vindictive glee. He could still hear the voice that sounded so much like Obadiah Stane saying mockingly: “Well, Tony my boy, how did you _think_ the bio-droids were created? You didn't think we grew them in a lab, did you?”

He looked around the room, seeing that it was beginning to grow light outside, the way it did just before the sky exploded into a mess of colours that traditionally had poets, painters and romance novelists salivating. Deciding he really wasn't in the mood for anything even remotely poetic, he slowly uncurled himself and stood on shaky legs. There was absolutely no way he was falling asleep again. He frowned as he spotted a thin white object sitting next to the waterglass on his nightstand. Picking it up, he raised an eyebrow. It was paper, of all things.

His eyes lit up a moment later when he realized there was only one person who would be leaving him messages written on paper. He quickly unfolded it. The handwriting was neat and precise and only slightly loopy. 'Come down to Candyland', the message read.

Tony raised an eyebrow. Candyland? Did Anthony Stark have a secret candy factory in the basement? Though as a Stark he'd be more likely to have a... ooh, there was that thing during the mid-twentieth century when the US government outlawed alcohol. And no one told a Stark they couldn't drink, so it was more than possible Howard Stark had built himself a distillery. Tony grinned. Oh yes, that had to be it. Having his own secret distillery sounded like fun.

Much more awake now, Tony quickly showered and put on something slightly cleaner than his usual workshop clothes and headed down. He paused just before reaching the door that led out to the stairs. “Jarvis,” he said softly. “Where's Vision?”

_“Vision is currently resting on a chair in the kitchen.”_

Tony winced, feeling like an asshole all over again. Resting on a chair? Hats and boxes did that, not people. God, Vision had been with him for over sixteen years and in all that time Tony had never given him so much as his own cubbyhole, let alone a room where he could lie down to rest. And now that he knew the truth, he had to be extra careful to not let his guard down. He'd already been making that mistake.

Because, he'd realized, he'd been mistakenly assuming that Jan and Hank had been alone in their home when the Police Force had discovered their 'vigilantism'. Except that they hadn't; Pirouette had been there too, Jan's faithful bio-droid, who had a neural-inhibitor attached to her brainstem. The thing was, that anything created to inhibit a response was only a step away from inducing a different response. The Hulkbusters hadn't just wanted to stop the Hulk, after all: they'd wanted to control him.

Quietly, so as not to disturb Vision, Tony made his way back to the drawing room. Whatever Candyland was, the direction 'down' couldn't have pointed to the secret underground levels more clearly. Well, okay, it could have but leaving the message slightly vague just in case was probably smart. He activated the alcove and stared at the elevator's menu options, humming as he wondered which one would take him to this mythical Candyland, until he realized the lowest level was labeled CL. Rolling his eyes, he selected that option.

The elevator felt incredibly slow and Tony spent much of the time going down wondering how difficult it would be to change it to a magnetic lightshaft system, which would be much faster and a lot smoother. Finally, the elevator stopped and the door slid open. Tony stepped out and looked around.

To his left was a neat, white-walled lab with glass beakers and old school bunsen burners set up along one table with a large white machine sitting by a what looked like a hospital bed and a metal examination table on the other. There were a few other machines scattered about the room, making it look like it was half medical room and half a biology lab. A closet just outside the lab revealed several white biohazard suits.

“This is Bruce's lab.”

Tony whirled around. A smile spread across his face as he took Steve in, looking just as wholesome and radiant as always. “Bruce's lab, really?” he said, mostly for something to say that wasn't entirely embarrassing. “So what about the ones in the main house?”

Steve shrugged. “Those were mostly for show. Between Anthony, Bruce and some of the other scientists that hung around like Jane and Susan, it would've looked suspicious if there hadn't been any labs.”

“Ah, so that way if someone managed to break into the house, they found the labs upstairs and didn't necessarily feel the need to dig deeper. That's smart.”

“Well, they didn't call Anthony a genius for nothing I guess.”

Tony chuckled. “So, Candyland?”

Steve grinned. “An inside joke. When Anthony was trying to convince Bruce to stay in New York, he used lab space and the newest and best science equipment as enticement. Called it Candyland and then just kept up the joke.”

Okay, yeah, science equipment and lab space, that was way better than a distillery. Wait. Tony's eyes widened. “Hang on, are you saying I've just found Anthony Stark's private lab?!”

“No, like I said, _this_ is Bruce's.” Steve pointed with his thumb. “Anthony's is next door.”

Tony stood frozen in shock for an entire thirty seconds. And then he turned on his heel and raced out the door. There was only one other door on this floor. It was a set of double doors made of sturdy metal – steel most likely – except for the large plexiglas circle the approximate circumference of a man, where they connected. He ran his hand along the seal where the circle was split into two equal halves and then looked at the keypad on the right half. It looked like a magnetic seal.

“Don't suppose you know the code for this lock?” Tony asked.

“Uh no, sorry, Anthony scrambled all the codes the last time he came down here. I could walk through the doors, but that won't help you.”

Tony blinked and turned to look at him. “You can walk through walls?”

Steve shrugged. “Ghost. It comes with the territory.”

“Hmph, I'm still not convinced ghosts are real, but being able to walk through walls _is_ kinda cool,” he said and then turned back to inspecting the locking mechanism. He wished he'd brought his toolbox with him.

“It's not worth the rest of it,” he heard Steve say softly even as he tried to decide whether it would be worth the risk to run back up to the house to grab his tools. He looked through the plexiglas wistfully. The window was so thick that everything on the other side looked blurry even though the lights were on. Which was odd, because surely they hadn't been on the entire time. No light fixtures were _that_ good and now that he thought of it, the lights had been on everywhere down here. Automatic then, probably connected to the elevator and the stairwell doors.

Speaking of the other levels... “Hey, Steve, you know that hangar with the plane?”

“You mean the quinjet? Yes.”

Tony blinked. Quinjet? Was that what it was called? Oh, that made sense: QP was Quinjet Pad. “There's gotta be a toolbox in there somewhere, right?”

“Sure, the quinjet's definitely got one for emergency repairs. Want me to go get it for you?”

“Yes! That would be great, thanks.”

Behind him he heard the elevator swish close and then, a little while later, it swished open again. A rusty toolkit was placed beside him and Tony managed to smile up at Steve before losing himself in the complexity of the magnetic lock. It should've been easy to dismantle – it was a two hundred-year-old mechanism, after all. But, once again, Anthony Stark seemed to be out to prove that there was a reason he was called one of the greatest minds of his era.

Thankfully, Tony was just as determined to prove he was one of the greatest minds of _his_ era. He wasn't entirely sure how long it took him, but eventually he managed to break the code and the lock deactivated with a hiss. The doors slid open moments later. Tony grinned and stood, his grin turning into a grimace as stiff muscles in his back protested the movement.

He couldn't help pausing to take a deep breath before he waltzed into the workshop of Anthony Stark. This had once been the secret playroom of a genius, one no one had stepped foot here since long before Anthony had died. It deserved at least a pause.

Inside, the workshop was divided into what looked like several separate workstations, each identifiable with its own sturdy-looking long, wooden bench, one of which was topped with a thick sheet of metal. Several old computer terminals sat at each workstation and he could make out at least two wall projectors on the ceiling. Sheets of tarp covered large, bulky objects, which Tony guessed were machines of some sort. He was fairly certain he could just make out a kiln at the very back where the lighting was less bright.

Apparently the lighting still wasn't perfect even if Anthony Stark had designed it, because the left-hand corner of the workshop hadn't lit up like the rest. Squinting into the dark, he could just make out a raised dais and some sort of large rounded storage containers – although there were electrical cords running through everything, so maybe they were machines of some sort. He took a few steps closer to try and see what it was.

He hadn't made it three steps when a sudden mechanical whirring sound made him jump. A shape detached from the side of one of the workbenches and what Tony had assumed was just an unfinished pile of spare parts, straightened with a soft mechanical chirp and rolled towards him. The wheeled base was wide and quickly tapered off into a long neck with several joints that ended in five blunt fingers. It was a robot arm, he realized.

The robot arm stopped when it reached him, its fingers closed together into a point and cocked them to the side. It made a high-pitched sound that sounded... inquisitive? Then it reached forward and extended one black finger. Before Tony realized what it meant to do, he already felt the slight pain as it poked him, clearly trying to be gentle but generally failing at understanding what that meant in relation to human physiology.

“Ow,” he said as he stepped back and rubbed the spot with an annoyed frown.

“Welcome great grand whatever-the-fuck you are!”

Tony jumped, whirling around once again at the unexpected, unfamiliar voice. His eyes widened, mouth dropping open as he found himself face to face with a hologram of Anthony Stark. It was grainy with a slight yellow hue, the way old holograms were, but otherwise the image was surprisingly clear. He'd seen pictures of Anthony before, but mostly they'd been either from the prime of his life or from later, just before his death. The Anthony here still stood tall and proud with his signature devil-may-care grin on his face and the goatee that had been such a staple of his when he was younger, before he'd grown out the full beard. But there were tired wrinkles and dark bags around his eyes and Tony couldn't help but notice the barely-concealed grief behind his showman's smile.

“Well, I'm assuming here that you're related to me, because I'm vain and arrogant enough to assume that only a Stark would be smart enough to make it this far,” the hologram continued. “In which case, good job. Give yourself a gold star. And possibly Jarvis too, since I'm sure you wouldn't have made it this far without his help.”

“Hey!” Tony protested before realizing that it was useless.

The smile disappeared from Anthony's face and dark blue eyes bore into his own. “I'm leaving behind this message for you because, well, if you've made it this far then you probably already know there's something rotten in the state of whatever this country is now called. Is it still the United States? Whatever. Look, the world's been changing recently and some of it's my fault, some of it's the world's fault, and some of it's someone else's fault altogether. People expect perfection. They don't believe in it – they hate it, in fact – but they expect it from those they set onto their ridiculous pedestals. Now I'm a futurist, but I'm no fortune teller, so I have no idea what's actually going to happen fifty years from now or a hundred or however long it's going to be from now that someone actually listens to this message. Hell, maybe the world will become a fucking Utopia and no one will ever read this message. Although it's more likely some idiot will destroy all life on the planet, but we can always hope for Utopia, right? Right.”

Anthony paused and took a sip from the whiskey glass in his hand.

“All I know is what's happening now. I can see the way the tides are turning, the way politicians and interest groups are calling for more accountability from those who've been trying to protect them. Hell, even my father's being called into question since he was part of the project that started it all and, really, couldn't have happened to a more deserving bastard. Except that of all the sins he'd committed during his life, Project Rebirth wasn't one of them. It was possibly the only good thing he'd ever done. And he fucking knew it, which, I think, was sort of the problem really. So here's the thing: no matter what history the government decides to spin, how they decide the history books should be written, it won't change the fact that those vigilantes someone's working so hard to condemn right now, are heroes. The Fantastic Four, Spiderman, Daredevil, Ms Marvel and the Avengers, they fought with everything they had to save those same people who are now calling for their heads.”

Anthony took another drink, probably to compose himself and wash away the grief that had flashed in his eyes as his voice had cracked on the word 'Avengers'.

“They were my friends, you know.” He chuckled bitterly. “No, actually, you probably don't. I hate denying it, denying _them_ but I have no choice. I'm getting married in two days and my future wife's due to give birth in four months. For her sake and for the sake of my kid I can't let myself be too associated with them. It's been three years since they disappeared and I don't want to give up, but I remember what it was like to have a father who thought a dead man was more important than his own son.” He snorted. “Besides, I can see Cap's disappointed face looking at me every time I contemplate continuing the search. And let me tell you, being at the receiving end of Captain America's patented disappointed face isn't fun. It makes you feel like you've just kicked a hundred puppies and dashed the hopes and dreams of all the children of America.”

Anthony gulped down the rest of his drink.

“But I digress,” he continued with an expansive wave of the hand holding the glass. “My point is that I can see where the government's going. The increasing restrictions are subtle, but they're definitely heading in a direction I'll be really happy to miss come to fruition. And I'm actually glad the others'll miss it too, 'cause this isn't what they fought and died for. Well, so, that's the truth. Just ignore what history tries to tell you and know that these so-called vigilantes, were heroes. They were the Earth's last line of defense and someone is doing their absolute hardest to tear them down, to send the last ones left scurrying into hiding. So, here comes the important question: what can you do now that you know the truth? Well, I suppose you have two choices: you can either deal with it in the finest Stark tradition...”

He waved one arm to the right and as Tony looked to see what he was pointing to, a small light came on and a door in the wall slid open to reveal roughly a dozen bottles of various alcohol.

Anthony chuckled. “The cupboard was created to provide the perfect conditions for aging, by the way.” Tony looked back to the hologram as Anthony took a deep breath, his eyes suddenly defiant. “Or, you can follow the _other_ Stark family tradition.”

Suddenly, the dark left corner of the workshop lit up and the five large chambers slip forward with a loud hiss and a heavy clunk of metal. There was another loud hiss as their fronts separated, sliding two inches forward and then to the side. The chambers lit up from the inside, illuminating the shiny metal suits inside.

“Phil Coulson was a friend and a good man, a good agent. He was also the Avengers' liaison with Shield. And he died during the fight against the Mandarin. Directory Fury put his body on ice, because he's both a bit weird and very much paranoid, 'cause he though we might need him again – or at least his body. Turns out, we did. See, with the Avengers gone and what was left of the Fantastic Four in hiding, Iron Man was the most prominent vigilante. If he just disappeared, people would continue searching for him, so we had to let him die. But, I'm proud of what I managed to accomplish even if the people I most wanted to tell are dead. So, great grand whatever-the-fuck, here's my final secret: my name is Anthony Edward Stark and I. Am. Iron Man.”

Anthony stared at him in defiance, as though staring right through the fickle sands of time and daring someone far into his future to judge him, to find him wanting. Tony wasn't entirely certain what he would've said to the man if he did suddenly manage to come forward in time. And then Anthony smirked. “So, what's it gonna be? You gonna choose to forget the truth by drowning it in alcohol, or are you going to take up the mantel I've left you?”

Tony didn't glance back as he found himself walking forward, drawn towards the proudly-gleaming red and gold suit.


	14. Chapter 13

It was dark and the adrenaline from the day was starting to wear off, leaving them tired and worn out. Even Jan's optimism was beginning to wane considerably the higher the moon rose. The day felt ridiculously long, and she wasn't even sure it was still the same day. Shortly after escaping their home, Hank had insisted they both lose their bracelets so they couldn't be used to track them. Her wrist felt naked now and she had no idea what time it was, only that it was dark. Very dark.

Still, she reminded herself yet again, at least they were alive. They'd somehow managed to survive not only a suddenly homicidal bio-droid, but also Hank's mostly-untested prototypes. In retrospect, Jan was terrified at what they'd done, at the huge risk they'd taken, but she knew they'd had very little choice at the time. And being able to shrink to avoid detection was a neat trick even if moving around the city when you were less than a half an inch tall was challenging. They discovered very quickly that anything they were holding shrunk with them, which at least made getting food, water and clothes easier.

“Jan, I hate to say this, but I think we might have to give up on the idea of finding some conveniently abandoned hut or barn,” Hank whispered from the blurry darkness just ahead of her. “We need to rest and regroup.”

Jan sighed, wishing she could just magic up their nice, soft bed. “You realize that if we'd stayed in the city we could've at least found a roof somewhere.”

“Too many optical eyes everywhere, you know that.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I get it. I just wish there wasn't quite so much damn countryside outside the city. I mean, is all this mud and grass really necessary?”

Hank chuckled. “It's call an ecosystem, and yes actually, it is very necessary.”

“If you say so.” Jan hissed as another sharp branch she couldn't see caught harshly on the skin of her arm, leaving behind a line of fire. Moments later, she stumbled over an extra large tree root that stuck out of the ground, probably for the sole purpose of tripping hapless passersby. She ran a hand over her eyes – she'd stopped caring about what her make-up looked like hours ago and at this point was likely to scare off any pursuers just by smiling at them. “Okay, fine, I think I need to sleep before I hurt myself walking. Does this mean we can officially call ourselves freedom fighters now?”

“After one night in the woods?” The amusement was evident in Hank's voice, but Jan just didn't care.

“Hey, there was running and hiding. We're fugitives from justice now, remember? Vigilantes, terrorists, revolutionaries: all different names for one smelly rose.”

“Hm, I suppose you're right. But at least we only need to hide out for a couple of days, until the worst of the heat dies down. Then we can go to Tony for help.”

Jan sighed. That had been the first thing they'd decided. Tony was their friend and had recently done his very best to give the United World Council the proverbial middle finger salute, so he'd probably made some sort of watch list already. His manor was the first place the police would look for them, assuming they hadn't already traced Hank's files to him anyway.

“Maybe that nuclear bunker under his house will see some long-term use after all.”

Hank snickered. “Or the secret love nest above the ballroom.”

She brightened at that. “Oh, I like that idea much better. And now I really, really need to sit down before I fall down and don't get up.”

“Yeah, me too. Look, there's a clump of trees over there. That should provide at least some sort of shelter.”

“What if we shrank to sleep?”

“Uh... I'm not sure how long the effects last without consequences. Besides, there are too many predators who would mistake us for prey at that size.”

“Right. No shrinking then.”

A branch snapped loudly to their left. They froze and exchanged a single, terrified glance that affirmed they were both on the same page and prepared to run at the first glimpse of a uniform. Or sharp teeth. Jan's heart was suddenly beating so loud she struggled to hear anything else. Slowly she turned around, eyes scanning the forest and wishing this was actually as easy as it looked in the movies. A breeze blew past her and between one blink and the next, a pale face stared at her from a foot away.

Jan screamed and swung the bag she'd been carrying over her shoulder at the face with all her might.

“Ow! Fucking ow!”

The light-haired man in front of her was clutching his nose when Hank grabbed her by the arm. “Jan, quick, this way!”

Jan turned on her heel, adrenaline giving her exhausted body a new burst of energy.

“Please wait!” a deep female voice called after them. “We are not the police!”

Jan paused, pulling Hank to a stop as she carefully turned back with a skeptical frown. A woman with long dark hair and wearing a dark-coloured, ankle-length dress stepped out of the shadows.

“Why should we believe you?”

The woman took another step forward, into a patch of forest illuminated by moonlight. She raised a hand, palm facing upward and Jan tensed. But her jaw dropped in astonishment moments later, when red colour blazed within the woman's eyes and a ball of red light swirled into existence above her palm.

“Because we are like you: the powered, the disenchanted, vigilantes.” She motioned to the light-haired man who was still poking at his nose gingerly while glaring at Jan. “I apologize for my brother, Pietro, he sometimes rushes into situations before thinking. My name is Wanda. Our contact in the city sent us a message asking us to look out for you. I am glad we finally managed to find you.”

Hank took a step forward. “A contact in the city? You mean someone who helps you smuggle people out, like an underground railway?”

Wanda cocked her head. “Hm, of a sorts. He has access to parts of the Network no one else can reach, especially when we have to be extra careful so we don't give ourselves away.”

“I never realized vigilantes were so well organized.”

She smirked. “They always were. The government has had control over how history is told for far too long and so the stories of old have been forgotten or twisted to suit their agenda. Two hundred years ago, when the United World Council was formed, it began to slowly change the world, to manipulate it into the image it wished to see, to control it. But there were those who saw this coming. At the time their base of power had been crippled, making them unable to take a stand against the change. So they hid and have been hiding ever since, gathering information and people to their cause.”

“Wanda, it's almost four,” the blond man whispered and Jan was suddenly struck by how young he looked. How young both of them looked.

“How long have you been vigilantes?” she asked, curious. She didn't remember ever hearing about anyone under the age of eighteen being declared a vigilante, but the two couldn't have been any older than early to mid twenties.

Pietro scoffed. “We were born outside the system and never registered.”

Jan's eyes widened. There had been rumours about things like that happening, but she'd never believed them.

Wanda nodded in agreement. “Yes, we were vigilantes the moment we were born. But come, we must hurry now. The patrols fly over this area in less than half an hour and you still have DNA identifier chips.”

“Where are you taking us?” Hank asked.

“To Shield.”

 

* * *

As soon as he caught his first glimpse of the Flying City, Rhodey knew something was very, very wrong. Maybe it was partially his mind seeing what he was expecting to see, and after days of vicious attacks and no communication from the United World Council, he really hadn't expected anything less. The city had finally been spotted by a fishing vessel from Newfoundland early in the morning after a storm had blown it farther into the Atlantic than it would've normally ventured. By the time it had been reported and the Canadian Police Force had managed to pick it up on their trackers, it was already in US airspace.

Rhodey wondered if those poor harried fishermen had felt the same sense of foreboding as he did when they saw the City emerge from its cloud cover and cast a long, dark shadow as it floated past their boat. Or maybe they'd seen it as a sign of hope, a sign that the United World Council had finally come out of hiding in order to help. No, they all would've felt much more inclined to that last possibility if the great mighty City hadn't been floating _away_ from the attacks.

Besides, he might never have seen the Flying City before, but Rhodey couldn't help but think that the one they were heading towards wasn't flying so much as floating along like a dried-up husk. There wasn't a single light to be seen, not a single sign of movement, nor could their instruments detect any radio signals.

As they approached, he finally saw the first signs of carnage, of buildings blown apart. Their communications array was nothing but a mass of tangled metal and bricks. Rhodey's grip tightened on his telescope. Closer still, he began to make out the outlines of bodies among the buildings, see red splattered over walls.

Nothing could have prepared him or any of his people for the scene they walked into. They'd brought a full medical team with them just in case, but as soon as he stepped off the helicarrier, he knew they wouldn't be needed. He didn't even need them to tell him the corpses were days old at least. His lunch thankfully didn't make a reappearance, but it was close. Many others weren't so lucky.

“Alright, team leaders,” he said loudly after the sounds of retching had stopped. “Take your teams and search the city for survivors and any clues as to what happened. Rivers, go call the CDC and the County Coroner's Office. Tell them what we've got and ask them to send people. Until the CDC clears the area, everyone is to treat it as a potential bio-hazard. That means personal containment shields on at all times. Understood?”

A chorus of 'yes sir's followed as detectives and officers scrambled to follow his orders, their faces visibly relieved at finally having the horror story in front of their eyes transformed into some semblance of routine. Rhodey remained by the helicarrier to coordinate the search and rescue, and waited for word of survivors. And waited. Meanwhile a young rookie sat at a foldable desk and tallied the numbers of dead as the teams reported in. He never stopped typing.

Rhodey jumped when his own comm finally came to life with a soft hum. He tapped his clunky police comm bracelet and a holoscreen came up. “Detective Hunter, do you have survivors?”

_“No, sorry Captain Rhodes. I'm afraid the odds of finding any survivors are probably slim at best. Whoever did this was very thorough. My team and I are in the Council's main building. It's a mess, sir. Looks like there was a pretty intense fight here.”_

Rhodey couldn't help the sharp intake of breath. “So you can confirm that the members of the United World Council are dead, then?”

_“Yes, sir, I can. Although... well, there's something here I think you should see for yourself.”_

“Great. I just love it when you say that.” He sighed and ran a hand through his short hair. “I'm on my way.”

 

* * *

 

Were he at all literately-inclined, Tony would've written odes to the Iron Man suit. _This_ was Anthony Stark's masterpiece. Not the weapons he stopped producing, not his communications tech and not his green energy tech, though he had built some of the best the twenty-first century market had produced. But the Iron Man suit encapsulated all of it and even had a direct uplink to Jarvis. Tony had read about his ancestor, studied many of his designs throughout his university career and heard anecdotes from history buffs and science geeks alike, but studying the armour and its blueprints felt almost intimate. Like he was continuing a conversation Anthony had started centuries ago. It seemed to reveal the inner workings of his mind more than any anecdote ever had.

Tony had nearly gone into happy convulsions when he'd realized what the light source in the centre of the armour's chest really was. Of course he knew about Howard Stark's arc reactor, what self-respecting scientist didn't? Stark Tower ran on an arc reactor. And, apparently, so did the house (Tony felt especially dumb for not having made that connection sooner). There had been rumours that Anthony Stark had done his own work with arc tech, but the tiny, palm-sized reactor was so much more than any of the stories hinted at.

It was amazing. And horribly inefficient. The power it provided was incredible for its size, but it was wasting twice as much in the form of heat and light. He wondered if maybe it was the core. After all, silicon systems and wiring didn't come into wide-spread use until the beginning of the twenty-second century. And flexamine and gomustronium, the two most common flexible gum metals didn't come until even later. He found his thoughts traveling back to the hoverbike he was designing. The arc reactor would be the perfect power source if he could streamline it and make it more efficient. Because, while the suit could probably travel incredibly fast and thus cross large distances quite quickly, it couldn't travel those same distances at a speed consistent with any traffic laws.

Something bumped against his arm, nearly unseating him. As he grappled for balance, he heard a whirling beep. He turned and blinked at his assailant. It was the robotic arm. And it was holding a covered drink cup. It beeped again and nudged the drink cup in his direction.

Tony blinked. “Oh, is this for me? That's so sweet...” He paused and scowled. “Is everything in this household programmed to make sure the crazy genius eats and sleeps?”

Behind him, someone chuckled. “Well, I'm not sure about all crazy geniuses, but the ones named Stark sure seem to need the reminders,” said a familiar, warm voice. “Although in this case, I think it might actually be closer to an assassination attempt than feeding.”

Tony spun around in his chair. Steve was stretched out on the couch with a large hardcover book – the sort made with actual paper – and a... stick of charcoal? When did Steve– oh... wait.

“Have you been here the whole time?!”

Steve looked up, his blue eyes sparkling with mirth. “Well, I went to get my sketchbook when I realized you had eyes for nothing but the fancy suit, but other than that, yes.”

Tony blinked. “You draw? That's sort of random. Also, wait, assassination attempt? Why would Anthony's robot want to kill me?!”

“You're a Stark, therefore genetically predisposed to engender that feeling in the people you meet,” said a female voice Tony recognized as the probably-very-deadly Natasha.

He looked over his shoulder and saw the redhead walk into the room, somehow managing to look seductive, casual and incredibly dangerous all at the same time. Pepper walked into the lab after her, looking around in amazement.

“Nat, Dum-E's not doing it on purpose,” he heard Steve chide her.

“Dummy?” he asked absently, eyes still watching Pepper's reaction as she looked around the room. Her reaction to his reveal about the bio-droids the night before had been, well, exactly what he'd expected. That was to say, she'd been as horrified as the rest of them had been and her eyes had narrowed into furious slits that promised nothing less than bloody vengeance – well, bloody vengeance via massive piles of headache-inducing paperwork.

“Tony!”

Tony froze and looked over to Steve who was staring at him with wide, panicked eyes. No, actually, he was staring at the drink cup he was holding. He had automatically brought it to his lips to take a drink. Tony looked down at it and then back to Steve, his eyes widening. “Wait, I thought you were joking about the assassination attempt!”

Steve's stared seemed to silently convey the message 'You idiot'. “Only partially. No, Dum-E's not actually trying to assassinate you. His heart's in the right place alright, but he's a helper bot for the workshop not the kitchen.”

Natasha leaned against the couch next to Steve's head. She looked highly amused. “Stark, did _you_ bring any fresh food down here with you?”

Tony frowned. “No, I didn't.”

They both just stared at him. Tony looked down at the drink cup in his hand. It suddenly looked much less innocuous than it had only moments ago. Carefully, he eased the lid off. And coughed at the putrid stench that assaulted him, making him gag as his eyes watered. He quickly closed the lid again and held the cup out as far away from him as he could.

“Oh, so that's what fermented zombie brains smell like,” he rasped once he was certain opening his mouth wouldn't cause the contents of his stomach to come spewing out. “There's another thing to knock off the old bucket list.”

He carefully stood and went to place the drink cup on a ledge that looked high enough that Dum-E couldn't reach it. He hardly wanted to risk that the bot would bring it back to him again. When he turned back to the others, Pepper was in the middle of a staring contest with Dum-E – inasmuch as you could have a staring contest with something with no visible eyes. The bot was the one who 'blinked' first, wheeling forward slowly, cautiously. Pepper took a nervous step back, her eyes darting towards Tony and then pausing to glare at his amused expression. Dum-E reached out to gently poke her. Pepper squeaked and jumped back, but Tony could tell it was from alarm, not pain.

“Pepper, meet Dum-E,” he called to her. He sauntered over with a lazy grin he knew she would hate. “Dum-E, that's Pepper. She's a friend and the soon-to-be CEO of my company.”

“Hello Dum-E,” said Pepper. She cautiously held out a hand. Dum-E beeped and cocked his, er, claw before reaching out with a happy little beep and gently taking her hand. Pepper smiled down at the bot as he perfunctorily shook her hand, amusement finally winning over trepidation. Greetings done, she turned to Tony. “Speaking of which, legal handed me the transfer documents this morning with a few very odd looks. You should really come to the tower to sign them in person, so they can confirm I'm not torturing you with a stylus.”

“You're giving up your company?” Steve asked.

“No, I'm handing over all the boring, paperwork and administrative parts so that I can play in my workshop.”

“Ah.”

“Hm, I think that's a genius plan Anthony would've been jealous of,” Natasha commented with a quirk of her lips.

“Oh my god.” They fell silent at Pepper's soft exclamation and wide-eyed wonder. She walked towards the armour, looking as though she couldn't help but be drawn in. Not that Tony blamed her in the slightest. “Is that...?”

Tony shoved his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels, grinning madly. “The Iron Man armour? Yes, yes it is. Well, one of the four suits of armour, anyway.”

That made Pepper pause and she turned to him with a blank expression. “One of four suits? Are you telling me there's more than one?!”

“Yep,” he answered, purposefully popping the 'p', knowing it secretly annoyed Pepper when people did that. “Turns out, there's been more than one lie told over the years and not all of it is the United World Council's doing. Phil Coulson wasn't actually Iron Man. His body was used as a stand-in to fake Iron Man's death.”

Pepper wasn't a science genius like Tony, but she was sharp. It took all of two blinks for her eyes to widen in realization. “Anthony Stark was Iron Man?” Her voice held an excited sort of awe. A lot of information had been lost during the past two centuries and a lot more had apparently been twisted beyond recognition, but the story of the last vigilante, the one who died to save the world... In retrospect, it was slightly humbling that it was the one story the United World Council hadn't managed to completely silence.

Tony's eyes widened and he looked to Steve and Natasha, who were watching Pepper with understanding. For the first time, he suddenly realized that they knew this workshop, this underground base, that they had known Anthony Stark well enough to be in his confidence, to have Jarvis lie for them. Steve had just automatically relaxed on the couch with his sketchbook as though it was normal. Was that why the couch was there? Had Steve come down to sketch while Anthony had tinkered with the Iron Man suit?

“The Avengers,” he whispered. Amid the score of revelations Anthony Stark's leftover spirit had imparted, the name had been a mere footnote, but now he wondered if maybe it wasn't the biggest revelation of them all. Steve twitched at the whispered word and looked to Tony, his face blank in a way that was obviously deliberate.

Tony cleared his throat. “Who are the Avengers?” he asked more loudly.

Now even Natasha turned to him, one delicate eyebrow rising as though he'd asked something particularly interesting. Steve meanwhile swung his long legs off the couch and set his sketchbook aside. His face was no longer blank, but it was serious.

“We are,” he answered simply. “The Avengers were created as Earth's last line of defense, capable of taking on threats ordinary forces couldn't.”

“If we can't defend the world, we'll damn well avenge it,” said a new voice. Tony turned to the side, where a blond man sat next to the giant circular saw, his legs crossed in front of him. He hadn't gotten a good look at him, but Tony was fairly certain this was the same blond man from the air vents.

“Ah yes, those were glorious times. The thrill of battle rushing through our blood as we fought side by side, shieldbrothers and sisters united in our desire to protect that which we held most dear. For what else can unite people so thoroughly, than the noble cause of preventing harm to the innocent, to bear arms in place of those who cannot.”

Tony stared at the armoured, red-caped apparition that was Thor. The Prince of Asgard seemed to glow, surrounded by an aura of light that shined off his armour and long, golden locks.

“Hm, you know I can't actually remember if I was ever officially induced into the Avengers,” said another voice. The dark-skinned man who'd woken him on the night of the attack casually sat down on the couch next to Steve, exchanging a small, amused grin with the blond. “Pretty sure I was just Cap's friend who occasionally went along for the ride.”

Steve chuckled and Tony noticed the corners of Natasha's lips quirk. “Hey, you're the one who insisted you didn't want to be part of the crazy,” Steve protested with humour.

“And yet I ended up part of it anyway.”

“Well, now that's hardly my fault.”

Tony grinned at the banter. Then movement out of the corner of his eye had him turning again. Bruce had come to stand at the edge of the group, wearing a white labcoat and an amused smile. He stood slightly hunched over, his hands stuffed into his pockets. When he noticed Tony's gaze, he smiled slightly and took a hand out of his pocket to wave at him. Tony's grin widened as he waved back.

Suddenly, there was a shadow looming over Tony. He looked up into Thor's beaming face.

“Friend Tony, the Captain says that you have spoken with my shieldsister, Sif of the Valkyries,” his voice boomed. Tony wondered if he came in a quieter setting.

“Uh, yeah, she apparently visits often,” he said, stumbling for words as he wondered what exactly Thor wanted from him. “She misses you, I think.”

Thor's smile dampened and he nodded solemnly. “She is a good warrior and a true friend.”

“And, uh, dedicated.”

Thor blinked and then his face split into another shining grin. He clasped Tony on the shoulder. “That she most certainly is, my friend.”

Tony gasped at the contact, as electrifying current warmed his skin even through the shirt he was wearing.

“Tony?” he heard Pepper ask him. “Tony, are you alright?”

Tony stepped away from Thor and waved her off. “Yeah, yeah, I'm fine.” Behind Thor, he noticed Steve had stood. He was frowning. Tony looked back to Thor. “Hm, so it's not just Steve...”

“What's not just Steve?” a quiet voice asked. He could hear the frown in Bruce's voice even before he looked over.

“Pepper,” he said in lieu of an answer. “Take Bruce's hand. Actually, it doesn't matter whose hand you take.”

Pepper frowned and looked around the room. “Uh, who's Bruce?”

“I am,” said Bruce and stepped forward. He gave a little shrug as he held his hand out to Pepper, as though to indicate he had no idea what the crazy request was about either. “Doctor Bruce Banner.”

Pepper blinked in confusion, but automatically went to take his hand. “Pepper Potts.” Her reaction was instantaneous. She gasped and stared down at their hands. “Oh. Oh wow, that...”

“Not what you would expect a ghost to feel like?”

Bruce frowned and also looked down at their hands. “What do you mean?”

“Your hand... it feels all tingly and warm,” Pepper explained. “Like it's full of energy. Not that I have much experience with ghosts, but I would've expected you to feel more, well, _dead_.” She looked up. “You can't feel it?”

Bruce shook his head. “I can only just barely feel the pressure of your hand. It took us years to figure out the exact amount of pressure to use in order to not break things.” He chuckled. “Especially Thor and Steve.”

“So, out of curiosity, how exactly did you figure out that Steve had magic energy hands?” the blond perching in the corner asked.

“Well, I didn't shake his hand,” Tony answered immediately. He paused thoughtfully. “And I'd like to add how incredibly grateful I am that you guys took the time to figure out how to touch things without breaking them.”

“Aaand that's where we're ending that line of questioning,” the dark-skinned man said, pulling a face. “'Cause as much fun as teasing Steve about this is going to be, Tony here's a Stark and that means that if you do ask him, he'll probably answer. In great detail.”

“Oh he definitely will,” Pepper confirmed. She'd let Bruce go and walked over to Natasha. She held her hand out. Natasha looked at it for a moment before slipping her hand into Pepper's. “Hm, yeah, you guys all feel the same.”

“That is quite unusual,” said Thor, frowning. “I once ventured into the land of the dead and I can assure you it is a land devoid of warmth of any kind. The only energy was in the dark flames used by its guardians.”

“My apologies for the disruption, sir, but I'm afraid Captain Rhodes is here to see you.”

Tony looked up. “Rhodey is? Really? Was I supposed to be expecting him?”

_“No, sir, this is an unscheduled visit. It does, however, appear to be official in some capacity. And, sir, may I please advise caution in what you say of this place in front of Vision.”_

Tony froze. “Is this another hunch of yours, Jarvis, or something you have confirmed?”

There was a pause. _“I believe you have also found reason for caution, sir, however I have just found confirmation on a back channel of the Network warning others to be cautious of their bio-droids. According to the source, the jewel in the centre of their forehead is an energy weapon.”_

“Shit. Okay, well, thanks for the news. At least now we know for sure, I guess.”

The Avengers remained behind (as far as he knew) while he and Pepper made their way to the elevator and then up to the main house. Rhodey was waiting for them in the foyer, back straight and jaw tense.

“Gumdrop, how are you?!” Tony exclaimed, spreading his arms wide and grinning in an attempt to alleviate the lines of tension in his friend.

Irritation flashed across Rhodey's face, but his shoulders relaxed. Internally, Tony crowed over even that small victory. “Tony, please be serious,” he said, sounding incredibly tired. “I'm here as part of an official inquiry.”

Tony dropped his arms and let his grin dampen. “Well, then what can I help you with?”

Rhodey didn't say anything immediately. Instead he looked at Tony with sharp, calculating eyes that made Tony frown. “How much attention have you been paying to international news?”

Tony's frown deepened. “You mean the attacks?”

“Berlin was attacked this morning, wasn't it?” said Pepper.

“Paris fell an hour ago. What's left of Europe's forces are gathering around London for a last stand. If London falls, then every major North American city will commence immediate evacuation.”

Pepper gasped as Tony felt his body go suddenly cold. “And still no word from the United World Council?” she asked.

Rhodey became even grimmer than before. “No, and there isn't going to be. The news hasn't been released to the general populace yet because we don't want to start a panic, but the Flying City was finally spotted and we went to check on it this morning.” Rhodey took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “We were wrong. Beijing wasn't the ship's first target. The United World Council, along with every single man and woman in the Flying City, is dead. The world's most formidable defense is gone.”

Tony closed his eyes. No, he thought, the world's most formidable defense had been gone for centuries. Gone and forgotten. “What do you want from me?” he whispered. “I can't bring back the dead.”

“I want you to explain this,” said Rhodey. He held up the large object he'd been holding under his arm. “We found it in the Council Room.”

It was a head. A silver head made of metal with wires and burned circuitry sticking out of its base. Once he'd given Tony enough time to take it in, Rhodey tilted it so that he could see the inside. Tony's eyes widened and he immediately stepped forward to run a finger gently over the round symbol inside. It was a rounder design stamped with red ink and slightly singed, but still recognizable as a former logo of Stark Industries.

“I have no idea what this is, Rhodey,” he said. “I mean, it's definitely nothing I designed and that logo's ancient, but I can look through the records if you want–”

_“That is Ultron.”_

Tony's head shot up, surprised by the AI's contribution. “Jarvis?”

Rhodey, meanwhile, had jumped and was now scanning the room for the source of the voice.

_“Ultron was an artificial being created by Anthony Stark to help defeat a villain known as the Mandarin, who was attempting to take over the world using what, at the time, we believed was alien technology. We also believe he was responsible for the disappearance of the Avengers, though neither Anthony nor anyone else ever managed to figure out how he did it. Master Anthony built Ultron using an indestructible metal called adamantium and a cloned version of my own programming for his basecode. With Ultron's help the Mandarin was defeated, however it turned out that Master Anthony had made a serious error in his programming. He coded Ultron's main objective as 'ensuring world peace'. Ultron ultimately came to the conclusion that the only way for the world to be at peace would be for humanity to no longer inhabit it.”_

“I can see how that could be a problem,” said Tony into the tense silence that followed. “I take it Anthony stopped Ultron in the end, er...” He looked at the head in Rhodey's hands. “...or at least thought he had?”

_“Indeed, sir. It was during the fight against Ultron that Iron Man is widely believed to have perished.”_

“Looks like he wasn't the only one who faked his death,” said Pepper quietly.

“Could someone please tell me what the hell is going on here?!” Rhodey said, his voice quiet, but tight with anger. “And you over the comm system, come out here now.”

Tony blanched. “Uh, he can't do that.”

“Oh, and why the fuck not?”

“Because he doesn't have a body. Umm, introductions then: Jarvis, this is my good friend Rhodey; Rhodey meet Jarvis. And before you start, yes, he is perfectly legal because Anthony Stark built him before any of the laws came into effect and wired him into the whole house.”

Rhodey gaped at him.

_“Captain Rhodes, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”_

“Uh, yeah, likewise. I think.”

_“Sir, I feel I should inform you that Vision is approaching your location.”_

“Tony, why is your AI warning you about your bio-droid?” Rhodey asked.

“You realize that both of them have names, right?” Tony snapped. Then he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Sorry, Rhodey, I didn't – well, actually I did a bit, but not quite so meanly. Look, just give us a minute and I'll explain.”

Vision came out of the corridor coming from the Science Wing. He saw Tony and Pepper and walked towards them. “Sir, I was searching for you,” he said.

“Ah, yeah, I was just showing Pepper something in the basement,” Tony said. “Rhodey's got something official he wants me to look at so we're gonna head down to the labs for a bit.”

Vision inclined his head. “Very well, sir. Shall I make some refreshments?”

“No! No, we're uh, we're good. But thanks.”

The bio-droid nodded and then watched them as they left him behind in the foyer. If there was any hint of wistfulness in his eyes, they certainly weren't looking.


	15. Chapter 14

Two days later, at exactly 6:27 in the evening, London fell.

Tony was in the secret workshop at the time, tinkering with the specs for the arc reactor, when suddenly, the stylus in his hand was being gently taken away from him and the chair he was sitting on slowly wheeled away from the hologram.

“Hey!” he exclaimed, quickly glancing at the clock in the corner of the holoscreen. “I ate, like, two hours ago and it's definitely not that late!”

“Tony.”

The tone of Steve's voice stopped him mid-rant and looked up into his grim face. “Steve?”

Steve gently pulled him out of his chair. “Come with me,” he said in that same grim tone.

Tony nodded mutely and then followed him out of the lab and up to the conference room. The door to the room was wide open and the rest of the Avengers were gathered around the table – or in Clint's case sitting cross-legged on top of the table – and watching one of the television screens along the wall. The sound was barely audible, though Tony wasn't sure whether this was because it was purposefully set that way or because the technology was that old. He found he didn't need the sound, though. The taglines running along the bottom of the screen were enough.

**Europe's last stand failed.**  
**Combined forces defeated above London as city destroyed.**  
**Washington and Ottawa begin evacuating civilians.**  
**US Police confirm that enemy is still unknown.**

“Fuck,” said Tony as he watched images of the rubble that was left of the once-proud city of London.

 

* * *

 

Tony walked into his bedroom and closed the door after him, trying very hard not to slam it because he didn't want to look like he was in a hurry to get away. God, he hated having to sneak around Vision. Next to Pepper and Rhodey, Vision knew him better than anyone alive. There was no way he didn't know something was up.

Tony froze. Oh, he realized, that right there was his answer to 'why bio-droids'. A regular computer didn't have the intuition of a human mind to recognize body language and facial expressions well enough to infer suspicious behavior. It took a certain degree of empathy and emotion to understand the difference between odd behavior due to emotional strain or stress and someone being sneaky or actually planning something nefarious.

Tony shook the thoughts away and turned to face the room. He blinked. It was empty. “Uh Jarvis, I told you to tell Jan and Hank to wait for me here, right?”

_“Yes, sir, you did. Perhaps they have not yet arrived?”_

“What? But it took me almost fifteen minutes to get here from the lab. Do you know where they are?”

_“No, sir. I'm afraid my sensors are not calibrated finely enough to see them.”_

Tony blinked. “Um, they're human beings, Jarvis. How could your sensors not be able to see them? Hell, the optical eyes I installed should be able to follow them around through most of the house.”

He heard something squeak and turned around. There was still nothing. Until suddenly there was. Tony felt his jaw drop comically as two people seemed to sprout from the floor, their forms blurred as they appeared to both grow upwards and to the sides at the same time. He recognized them even before they finally solidified.

“Holy shit, you got it to work!” were the first words that came out of his mouth. His eyes widened. “This is how you escaped, isn't it? No wonder the police couldn't find you.”

Hank beamed proudly, eyes twinkling with excitement. Jan rolled her eyes. “It's good to see you too, Tony,” she said dryly.

Tony winced. “Ah sorry, sorry.” He smiled. “I really am glad you're alright. Though, you realize you could've come here, right?”

Hank shook his head. “No, this would've been the first place they looked. Especially if they tracked our DNA identifier chips here.”

“Luckily, the authorities seem to have their hands too full with everything going on in China and Europe to be bothered with a full-scale manhunt like they usually would,” Jan added.

Tony nodded. “Yeah, Rhodey was here two days ago. They're trying to keep it quiet, but they finally found the Flying City and it's a giant graveyard. Looks like the bastard with the ship started with the United World Council.”

Neither one of them looked surprised.

“So, no offense, but you two don't exactly look like you've been roughing it for the past week.”

“That's because we haven't,” Jan replied. “Turns out there's actually a group of organized vigilantes called Shield. One of their contacts in the city told them we were on the run and two of their people found us and took us in. We told them what you'd discovered and, well, they let us come here because they think Anthony Stark hid something here in the house that might be useful in defending the world from that madman who's been blowing up cities.”

“You mean Anthony's secret lab and the Iron Man armour.”

Both of them froze.

“Secret lab?”

“Iron Man armour?”

Tony blinked. “Oh, that's not what you meant?”

Jan and Hank exchanged a bewildered look. “You know, they didn't actually explain what they meant by that,” said Jan. “Just that there was once a group of vigilantes that used to operate out of this manor and they had reason to believe some of their old stuff was still hidden in the house somewhere. Which, given how many little secret rooms and systems you keep finding didn't actually seem that strange. But, I guess you've already found it, huh?”

“Yeah, the day you guys were declared vigilantes.”

Hank nodded. “There's one more thing, Tony,” he said carefully. “You know how Howard Stark was condemned for being part of the project that started the vigilante movement in the 1940s?”

Tony nodded.

“Well, it was called Project Rebirth and its purpose was to create the perfect soldier using something called the Super Serum. Bruce Banner's studies of the serum later on were actually how the Hulk was created.”

Tony frowned. Anthony's hologram had mentioned Project Rebirth: the one good thing Howard Stark had done. He didn't have time to contemplate it further, however, as Jan picked up the story.

“You've heard stories from the Second World War, right?” she said. “About the captain who led the secret war against the Nazi scientific group called Hydra? I know you're not much of a history buff, but they always mention it in high school history classes. He stopped a series of bombs targeting major US cities by downing the plane carrying them while he was inside.”

“Yeah, I've heard that story. Pretty sure there was a movie made about it in the mid-twenty-first century. It wasn't a completely horrible movie, though the only good actor on-screen was the one playing the captain's best friend. Can't remember what his name was...”

Hank nodded. “That was on purpose. The movie was subtle propaganda to shift focus from the legend as they quietly struck his name from the history books and made it look like the story was nothing but rumours. The man was real, though. He really existed. Leader of the Howling Commandos, Captain Steven Grant Rogers, codename: Captain America.”

Tony froze. “Shit.” Captain Rogers. It was what Jarvis had called Steve. He looked to the ceiling. “Jarvis, I'm assuming you have full files on Project Rebirth?”

There was a pause. _“Indeed I do, sir. There is also a complete hard copy of Howard Stark's original files in one of the vaults.”_

“Vaults? I have vaults?”

_“You do, sir.”_

“Huh. Okay then. Is there anything interesting in the vaults?”

_“There are quite a few boxes of various files from the early days of the SSR and then the early days of Shield, which it later became as well as various personal effects of his and several of his less public-friendly prototypes.”_

“Public-friendly? What exactly does that mean?”

_“By all accounts, Howard Stark had a habit of creating things for the sake of his own curiosity and then realizing they were far to dangerous to be allowed to fall into anyone else's hands.”_

“Why didn't he just destroy them if they were so dangerous?”

_“I'm afraid that in order to answer that, sir, you would have to ask Howard Stark himself.”_

“Aand we're back to that time machine.” Tony ran a hand through his hair. “Okay, so as fascinating as all of this is, do your new friends have anything that can help us with the bio-droid implants?”

Jan shook her head sadly. “No, they had no idea the bio-droids weren't mechanical until we told them. They knew about the tech and had the same information on the Hulk and the Hulkbusters that you did, but they didn't know about the bio-droids. Apparently, the United World Council kept all that information under very tight guard in the Flying City.”

“Of course they did. So, Hank, feel up to a little brain surgery?”

Hank blanched. “No, absolutely not. I'm a biologist, not a surgeon, let alone a brain surgeon.”

“Shield does have a few doctors, though, and at least one of them seemed interested in the procedure, but he wants to see the scans first.”

“Yeah, sure, done,” said Tony, reaching for his holopad. It only took him a few minutes to pack up the files and transfer them to a data-chip he'd grabbed on his way up from the drawing room. “And for the record, I actually have a lab downstairs that's part medical ward. Okay, so technically it's Bruce's lab, but there's a bunch of old medical equipment inside and Jarvis assures me it can be sterilized for surgery if needed.”

Hank nodded. “We'll let them know.” He paused. “Tony... are you planning to leave the city?”

Tony blinked. “No.” He looked up from the data transfer. “Wait, I thought they were only evacuating Washington.”

“Officially, yes, but a lot of people are getting out of the city anyway. New York's too large and prominent a city to not be a viable target.”

He nodded. “I suppose... but no, I'm not evacuating.” He smirked. “If that bastard comes to New York, I'm going to meet him head on.”

Jan and Hank looked at him dubiously, but Tony didn't bother explaining. Maybe this Shield already knew that Anthony Stark had been Iron Man, but if they didn't, he wasn't about to let anyone he didn't implicitly trust know he had a working suit of armour. Which would, naturally, be even better than Anthony's by the time he was done with it.

 

* * *

 

Tony really wished he could say that as soon as Jan and Hank left, he went right back down to work on the armour. Or even to sleep so that he could be rested enough to work on the armour in the morning, as completely mind-boggling an idea as that would normally seem to him. Instead, he asked Jarvis to direct him to the vaults.

In the vaults, Tony learned two very important things: one, he apparently came from a family of pack-rats, and two, this Captain America character was apparently a pretty big deal once upon a time. An entire half of the first vault was dedicated entirely to memorabilia. Tony left that vault very quickly once Jarvis confirmed the files were actually in the one next to it.

He was most definitely not cooing over teeny tiny Stevie Rogers when Steve Rogers the not-ghost found him. If only because the extremely long and extensive medical file left him too horrified for any proper cooing.

“Oh, I didn't realize Anthony kept all these files here,” Steve said, nearly giving Tony a heart attack when he suddenly appeared at his shoulder.

Tony smacked him on the arm (though he was fairly certain it hurt him more than it hurt Steve) and scowled, a little surprised his hand had connected with flesh. “Listen super soldier, some of us are neither super nor undead or whatever it is you are and therefore can still receive shocks to the heart and mind, so watch it. If I die because of irregular heart palpitations I will come back to haunt you.”

“Well, it's only fair,” Steve answered with a shrug. “Still, it's been so long since I saw that picture.” He reached out to run his hand over the face that was so similar and yet light years apart. “You know, it took me years after the treatment to get used to having a new body. Intellectually, I knew I could now run without my chest feeling tight or walk through cold weather without wheezing, hold my own in a fight and bench-press a jeep, but emotionally? When I was Captain America, the leader, the tactician, it wasn't a problem: I had a job to do, so I did it. But as soon as the uniform came off, I was just Steve Rogers, the little guy with a too-big mouth who all the dames stepped on.” He chuckled. “Anthony used to joke that I had a 'Captain America' voice that people just couldn't resist obeying, said it was my secret super power. Once when Thor's buddies were visiting he got drunk and convinced Bruce to run tests on me to prove it.”

Tony laughed. Steve made a face, but it was good-humoured, the memory obviously a good one. There was a tiny part of him that longed to be able to insert himself into that picture. Hank was fun and brilliant in his own squishy part of science, but Tony couldn't picture him humouring him like that. Hank was just too serious for that. He was more likely to pour Tony another drink than do silly science with him. Not that the drink wouldn't be appreciated.

“And did they prove anything?” he asked.

Steve shook his head. “No. Of course, Anthony passed out four hours into the tests, in the middle of one that, for some reason I can't remember, required a rubber ducky. You know, the research might even still be in the databanks somewhere. Anthony didn't believe in throwing away science, even when it was ridiculous.”

“Ridiculous science is sometimes the most fun.”

“Hmm.” Steve was looking at the photograph again. Now that he had the bigger Steve Rogers to compare it with, Tony could truly appreciate the change. What must it have felt like to go from the tiny sickly creature in the photograph to the healthy picture of perfection Tony had come to know? “It's funny, but now it's been so long I can barely remember being so frail and sickly. Wow, I really was 4-F material, wasn't I?”

“I have no idea what a 4-F is, but what you definitely were was an early death waiting to happen.” He pointed to the thick medical file sitting on the ground. “I had Jarvis look up some of the treatments at the time and seriously, how the hell did you survive that?”

“According to my friend Bucky, pure stubbornness.”

Tony laughed.

 

* * *

 

The gym on the Fitness Level was large enough to test the suit. Having smoothed out the output of the repulsors, he was eager to try it out. After all, he used rocket-boots all the time and this was just a bit more powerful – powerful enough to require hand repulsors for stability and after a bit of fiddling Tony had to admit there was no way around that with the sort of power the boot repulsors were giving out.

It was nothing like rocket-boots.

At first the full suit had felt claustrophobic, but once he began concentrating on keeping it steady the feeling quickly disappeared. Or possibly it was the first blow to the head when he used a bit too much power and crashed into the ceiling. He eased up on the power after that, taking a more gentle approach as he maneuvered his way around the room. There was a lot of crashing and skidding along surfaces during the first hour. The hecklers on the side-lines weren't helping.

Eventually, though, he managed to get the hang of it. He flew circles around the room, changing direction with nothing but a slight flip in the air, and then several smooth figure eights, increasing the speed until the annoyances on the sidelines were nothing but a blur. He laughed, suddenly understanding that Anthony Stark probably hadn't created the suit just to fight crime with. His ancestor had clearly been an adrenaline junkie.

Elated, he finally came to a stop and hovered just above the Avengers' heads. His face felt flushed and he knew his eyes had be wild with excitement, but he didn't care. He opened the faceplate and beamed down at them. Oh, who was he kidding? He beamed down at Steve.

“Not bad, Tony,” said Steve with a happy, easy smile.

“Hm, I was expecting you to take longer getting the hang of it,” Natasha commented.

Thor grinned. “Tony of Stark, you are truly worthy of the mantle bequeathed to you by our friend!”

He glanced to Thor, feeling especially warmed by his words. “Thanks. That means a lot,” he said before looking back to Steve.

Steve lowered his eyes for a moment, but not before Tony caught a glimpse of grief. The grief was gone, however, when he looked back up to Tony and stepped away from the wall. Then his expression turned _evil_. “Maybe we should make it a bit more challenging then,” he said and pressed a button on a panel that had previously been hidden by his bulk.

Which was when the room started shooting lasers at him.

“I hate you!” Tony screamed at him ten minutes later as he was hit by yet another shot. They weren't powerful enough to cause any permanent harm, but they still managed to rattle the suit every damn time. “I seriously hate you! I don't know why I ever thought there was anything good about you! Dammit! I am going to find a way to make you permanently corporeal just so that I can kick your ass without you being able to disappear on me!”

Steve's only response was to laugh harder.

 

* * *

 

The next time Pepper came to Stark Manor, it was with a suitcase trailing behind her like a navy blue puppy. Vision met her at the door and held it open, out of courtesy rather than need since the suitcase hovered after her so long as she had the tracker pin clipped to her skirt.

“Good evening, Ms Potts,” he said. “I assume you are also not joining the evacuation?”

“No, there's too much to do and I refuse to be cowed by this madman,” she said. She paused, swallowing. “But I don't think I want to be alone right now either, so... here I am.”

She smiled at Vision. Whatever Vision's feelings on the matter were – if he had any at all – they didn't show on his face. Pepper couldn't help but wonder what he would be like without the inhibitor. Did he have any emotions of his own at all after all this time? Did he even realize he wasn't a machine? That he was a living, breathing person?

She took a deep breath. No matter what, she couldn't let on that something was wrong, that she knew more than she was supposed to. But there was something so forlorn about the bio-droid and suddenly she realized how much Tony was excluding him from his daily life right now and leaving him alone for longer periods of time than he usually would.

“Vision,” she began and faltered. The bio-droid's face became attentive as he waited for his next instruction. “You know Tony considers you more than just a servant, right? Next to me and Rhodey, you know him better than anyone else. I know he's been distant recently and I'm sorry, but he can't tell you what he's working on. He will, though, and soon, just... please be patient.”

This time she knew she wasn't imagining things when she saw a brief hint of emotion flash through Vision's eyes. “Thank you, Ms Potts, for considering me, however as I am a bio-droid, there is no need for Mister Stark to explain his actions to me.”

“I know, but sometimes it's nice to explain things even when you don't have to. Don't worry about my luggage, I'll take it up to my guestroom.”

“Very well, Ms Potts.”

Vision waited until she'd reached the top of the stairs, in case she decided there was something she needed after all, and then went back to the kitchen to check the stores. He paused just inside and looked up at the optical eye hidden atop the pantry.

“Jarvis?” he said.

_“Yes, Vision?”_

“Is Mister Stark doing something illegal?”

_“I'm afraid I cannot answer that question, Vision. However, consider this: laws are made by humans and are thus fallible. Sometimes, they are even wrong. I can assure you of one thing: Sir does hold you in high regard and does indeed plan to tell you all about what he is doing just as soon as he is able to safely do so.”_

Vision nodded. “Thank you, Jarvis. I will consider your words.”

_“You are welcome, Vision.”_


	16. Chapter 15

It had taken both Jarvis and then Steve to corral Tony out of the workshop on time. And even then, he arrived just as Vision was ushering their guests into the foyer.

The woman who walked in first stared at the bio-droid with thinly-veiled dislike, so he quickly sent Vision to prepare some refreshments. He didn't recognize her, but she looked young, possibly in her early-to-mid twenties and wore a long, black dress and a bright red hooded cloak. It made her look a bit like Little Red Riding Hood, black rocket-boots and the comm and holopad bracelets jingling on her wrist completing the ensemble. At second glance, Tony realized the dress and cloak were actually made out of flexarmour, the same as Rhodey's uniform – the flame retardant one designed to deflect plasma blasts. A tall dark man entered behind her, and if the first woman was Little Red Riding Hood then he was clearly the evil wizard come to kidnap her (after he turned into a wolf, naturally). He even had the classical mustache and beard and was wearing a long, midnight blue cloak covered in symbols embroidered with gold, purple and red thread. Tony wouldn't have been surprised to learn to was hand-made.

The third person to enter wasn't wearing a cloak. He gaped at the slim, straight-backed form.

“Maria Hill?!” he finally managed to exclaim. She raised an unimpressed eyebrow, the gesture so quintessentially hers, it proved there was no way she was a substitute. “You're part of a vigilante organization? Really? Wait. Is that why you're at Stark Industries?”

The look she gave him was just as flat as usual. He was actually quite impressed with her ability to project the image of rolling her eyes at him without moving a single muscle. “I work at Stark Industries because of the pay and medical. Keeping an eye on you and the businessmen that come through the Tower is a nice bonus. I was actually trying to gauge the possibility of recruiting you when this whole mess started.”

Tony wasn't entirely sure he believed her, but he let her answer slide. If nothing else, he knew she was competent and felt much better for having her on his side. He turned to the woman in the red cloak, but before he could say anything, a bug landed on his nose. He blinked, startled, and then waved his hand irritably to chase it away. It held on and Tony growled, going cross-eyed as he looked down his nose at the tiny insect... that didn't look even vaguely like any insect he'd ever seen before. For one, it was bright yellow with black borders and detailing, and for another, it seemed to be wearing a dress.

After a few moments of staring, the 'bug' jumped, its tiny black wings beating quickly as it flitted around Tony's head for a few loops and then disappeared. Moments later, two figures began to grow out of the ground. Out here in the lobby, under the brilliant illumination of the chandelier, he could see the transformation more clearly and watched as the blurring lines of his friends' figures expanded. The better light showed that as they grew in size, the in-between states were also fully-formed sizes, not transitory states.

Jan also seemed to have added her own touch to Hank's invention and both of them were wearing new body armour and helmets that most likely contained the stabilizing component of the Pym Particle manipulator. Hank's was relatively simple, made out of a dark reddish-brown flexarmour that looked a bit like leather and contained an array of pouches and pockets. His helmet had two metal antennae sticking out of it. Janet, in contrast, was wearing a bright yellow dress with black leggings, gloves and yellow rocket-boots. He hadn't even realized flexarmour came in yellow.

As soon as they were back to their original sizes, Janet ran up to Tony and threw her arms around him. “Oh Tony, it's so good to see you!”

Tony blinked and put his arms around her awkwardly. “Um, hey Jan, it's good to see you too. Although you realize I saw you, like, three days ago, right?”

“Six, actually,” said Hank as Jan stepped away from him.

“Oh, has it been six days already? Wow, how time does fly when you're, uh, planning to do whatever it is that we're planning – what exactly is it that you guys are scheming again?”

“Whatever is necessary,” the woman in red replied. “The United World Council is dead and none of us will mourn the loss, but it leaves the world defenseless against the current threat.”

“Unless we can figure out a way to mobilize all the bio-droids,” Hill added. The other woman nodded.

Tony glared at her. “No. We are not going to force anyone to fight. The fact that we've spent decades practicing slavery without realizing it is bad enough.”

“We might not have a choice.”

“Then maybe you should find one,” Pepper's voice interjected, her voice frosty. She stared down at the newcomers from the top of the stairs for a few long moments, before looking away, her eyes softening with a smile. “Hank, Jan, I'm glad you're alright.”

Jan smiled back. “Thanks, we're definitely glad about that.” She motioned back to the mystery woman. “Wanda and her brother Pietro found us.”

Pepper began to make her way down, her steps muffled by the carpet on the stairs. She nodded to the woman in red. “Then thank you for saving our friends. I'm Pepper and this is Tony.”

The woman nodded in acknowledgment. “I am glad we were able to find them so quickly. Our contact had no idea where they might go.”

Tony frowned. “Your contact?”

_“Wanda Maximoff, it is a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance in person. I am Jarvis.”_

Tony would've laughed at the startled expressions on the group's faces if not for his own shock. “Wait, Jarvis, you know her?! How can you possibly know her?”

Wanda, meanwhile, had taken two steps further into the room and was searching the room for the sound of the voice, her eyes wide with wonder. “Jarvis? Where are you?”

_“In this house, I am everywhere.”_

Tony rolled his eyes. “How dramatic,” he said dryly. “You can stop looking, Red, you won't find his hiding space. Mostly because he doesn't have one. Jarvis is an AI built by Anthony Stark before the anti-AI laws were passed.”

Maria Hill's eyes widened momentarily before turning thoughtful. “That actually makes quite a bit of sense. We thought that maybe 'Jarvis' was something like a title passed on over the years. After all it's more or less impossible for the same person to be running intelligence and relaying messages for two hundred years, but an AI would make sense too.” She looked up. “I'm assuming you have access to the Network then?”

_“Yes, I always have.”_

“Apparently, since no one knew he existed, they didn't bother blocking his access,” Tony grumbled. “He has more access to stuff I own than I do.”

_“Sir, Vision has just exited the kitchen.”_

“Thanks Jarvis.” He looked at Hank. “So, how are we doing this?”

At his question, the tall man in the blue cloak stepped forward. “I require a few more detailed scans before I can fully plan the operation.”

Hank cleared his throat. “Tony, this is Doctor Stephan Strange. Doctor Strange, Tony Stark.”

The man inclined his head. “A pleasure, Mister Stark.”

Tony raised a skeptical eyebrow at the man. “Uh, yeah, me too. So you're a surgeon then?”

“I am many things, but today I am here as a surgeon, yes.”

“Great. What sort of equipment are you going to need for your scans?”

“I have brought it all with me. All I require is a room to set up.”

“You brought it with you? Where? In your pocket?”

“As a matter of fact, yes. It transpires that Doctor Pym's invention is useful in all sorts of situations.”

Tony blinked and then turned to Hank. “You figured out a way to shrink objects?”

Hank smiled proudly. “Yes. Although the tech's trial-by-fire wasn't exactly ideal, as a result I knew it worked and could move on to observing the process and taking scans as it occurred. Shield has some pretty impressive tech at their disposal, including the schematics for Jan's wings.”

Jan grinned and held up her hands to show off the yellow cuffs on her wrists. “And the plasma cuffs.”

Pepper chuckled. “Careful, if Rhodey sees those, he might just stick you into the front lines,” she teased.

“Hey, don't laugh! There's a fucking madman destroying major cities and the bio-droids are secretly an army of assassin-spies. I don't think I'm crazy for wanting to be able to protect myself! Besides, Richards – the guy who built them – was super excited to have someone to test them.”

Out of the corner of his eyes, Tony saw Wanda stiffen. He took a deep breath and turned to smile at Vision, who was pushing a hovercart in front of him. “Hey, Vision! Wow, you were quick.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Vision, looking directly at Tony. It was unnerving, the way his eyes never wavered to the side. Vision inclined his head “Where would you like me to take this?”

“Uh... lab two, I think. We'll be down in a moment.”

“Very well, sir.”

They were silent until Vision's footsteps had disappeared down the corridor. Only then did Jan step out from behind the tall, clock-clad form of Doctor Strange. “Okay, that was interesting,” she said.

“What was?” Hank asked her. He'd turned around to face away from Vision – with his helmet and reddish-brown armour, he wasn't immediately recognizable from the back.

“Vision. He very clearly didn't look anywhere but Tony. Like he knew something was going on and was avoiding looking at it.”

“Willful blindness,” Wanda commented, now looking thoughtful. “That's a very human behaviour pattern.”

Was that a sign that Vision didn't completely hate him? Tony stomped down the feelings of hope, knowing there was no point to them just yet. No matter what, he wanted to give Vision his freedom. Whatever came afterwards, he would deal with then.

“Okay, Strange, let's go de-shrink your equipment and set up in lab three,” he said and motioned everyone to follow him.

It was the easiest lab setup he'd ever participated in. Strange's cloak was somehow ridiculously well-suited to carrying shrunken lab equipment: it was like a magical bottomless cloth well. Tony definitely wanted one – but in red with golden circuitboard stitching. Hank then took out a handheld device that activated the small devices attached to each piece of equipment and caused it to grow. Within fifteen minutes, the nearly-empty room looked like a proper lab, though possibly one owned by a bunch of mad scientists. But, really, who cared about details like that when there was science to be had?

“Now, comes the tricky part,” said Strange as he surveyed the equipment with critical eyes. He looked to Tony. “I would like at least one scan of his brain to be done while he is conscious, ideally when the device is actively sending out a signal so that I may see how it's interacting with his mind.”

Tony waved him off. “Please, you underestimate my ability to confuse people Jarvis, tell Vision to bring coffee to lab three.”

_“Yes, sir.”_

It felt like a century passed before they heard familiar footsteps coming down the corridor. Hank shrunk himself only moments before Vision finally walked into the lab. The bio-droid paused in the doorway as he took in the new equipment.

“Oooh, coffee, excellent!” Tony exclaimed as he pretended not to have spent the last twenty minutes waiting for him. “Thanks Vision.”

“You're welcome, sir. Will there be anything else?”

Vision placed the tray down on the corner of an empty lab table and Tony was immediately beside him, pouring himself a cup. “Hm... actually, you know what? Yes, there is.” Coffee cup in one hand, he grabbed the bio-droid by the bicep with the other and gently steered him towards one of the large brain scanners. “We've set up this scanner here, but we need to calibrate it for picture quality and biological debris and, you know, other important stuff. And we need to monitor the readings so that we can adjust it to peak efficiency. Don't worry, it's perfectly safe for both biological and technological matter, so you'll be fine.”

He caught Strange's amused look as he gently pushed Vision into the body of the scanner. It was oblong and curved to encase the body from all three sides, the back just slightly padded to disguise the hundreds of micro-sensors embedded into the metal casing. It was the sort of full-body scanner usually found in private clinics, designed for comfort and luxury as much as performance.

“Okay, just lay back and think calm thoughts,” Tony continued rambling. “This should only take a minute, maybe two.”

He stepped back from the scanner and nodded to Strange, who'd brought up a holopad interface and tapped on an icon. The machine came to life around Vision, a strip of light along the edges lighting up as it began to hum softly. And then a thin, translucent strip of sensor modules came out of the illuminated edge strip and passed across the open front of the scanner and disappeared into the illuminated strip on the other side. Moments later it appeared again, this time passing a little lower. It continued circling Vision until finally it reached the very bottom. Then the strip of light dimmed and the humming stopped.

“Perfect!” Tony enthused as he rushed to help the bio-droid out of the scanner. “Doctor, you get everything all calibrated?”

Doctor Strange raised an eyebrow. “Yes, I did,” he replied smoothly. His eyes darted to Vision and remained thoughtful for a moment. “Thank you, Vision. Now, if you wouldn't mind I have one more device I would like to, ah, calibrate with your help.”

Vision blinked. “Of course. I am glad to be of service.”

“Excellent, then please follow me.” Strange swept to the brain scanner. It was a bizarre-looking device. Tony had seen more than one of them over the years and yet they still never failed to remind him of the giant hair driers they used in the hair salons his mother once frequented.

Vision sat down in the chair as instructed and Strange lowered the scanner. This one also turned on with a quiet hum, though no lights turned on until Strange inputted the scan parameters into the panel on the back. Then green, red and blue round lights lit up inside the top of the concave scanner. The lights were on for a minute before there was a loud clicking sound. They blinked once and then continued to blink on and off in sequence as they moved around the inside of the rounded top. Every thirty seconds the machine's hum was interrupted with a soft 'click-click' sound.

A few minutes passed with Tony alternately watching Vision as he was illuminated by the machine and Strange as he watched the scanner's results on his holopad. Eventually, Strange looked up to Tony and nodded: it was time to see how the inhibitor worked.

“Hank?” said Tony, taking a few steps back so that he was next to the lab table, in case he needed to duck behind it for cover.

And then Hank was growing in mid-air, his hoverboots gently easing him to the ground from whatever surface he'd been standing on (from the angle it looked like he might've been standing on Strange's shoulder). The transition and landing was done so smoothly, Tony knew without a doubt Hank had been practicing. Full-size and on the ground, Hank took his helmet off, and shook out the worst of his helmet hair.

He'd been watching Vision out of the corner of his eye and therefore noticed the bio-droid stiffen, his eyes widening slightly. His jaw locked as his hands gripped the sides of the chair's armrests, denting the heavy-duty polymer. Above him, Tony saw Doctor Strange's eyes widen – he could've sworn the expression looked amazed.

“That looks so much nicer than the machines I used to use,” said a voice from behind Tony, making him jump.

Tony whirled around to find Bruce observing the procedure thoughtfully. “Bruce? As happy as I am to see you've stopped hiding from me, I'm not entirely sure this is the best timing for your coming out.”

Bruce snorted. “I can't really think of any better.”

“Doctor Banner, it's good to see you again,” said Hank with a smile.

Bruce turned to him. “Hello, Hank, I'm glad you and Jan are alright.”

“Thanks.”

Strange cleared his throat. They turned back to the scanner and their attention was immediately drawn to the gem on Vision's forehead. It was glowing. Below it, Vision's eyes were blank, emotionless voids, his facial muscles stiff, yet oddly slack. It made Tony shiver.

Vision stood, Strange pulling the scanner back just in time to prevent any damage. “Doctor Henry Pym, Doctor Bruce Banner, you are vigilantes under the law of the United World Council. Anthony Stark, for aiding and abetting vigilantes, you are also declared vigilante under the law of the United States of America as directed by the United World Council.”

Hearing Vision's voice so flat and monotone made Tony's heart ache. The denouncement came as no surprise, but it was coming from the lips of his companion and friend it still hurt. The gem on Vision's forehead pulsed.

“Tony!” he heard Hank cry out and then something heavy tackled him.

He landed on the hard, concrete floor of the lab with a painful thud, though he thankfully managed to get his hands up in time to prevent himself from cracking his skull open. He blinked up at Hank for a moment, before the other man quickly scrambled off of him and helped him up. They peered up over the top of the lab table.

Steve was there. He was holding Vision back from behind, having locking his arms around the bio-droid's shoulders and bracing himself backwards. Vision was struggling to move forward, but didn't have the strength or leverage to pull out of the hold. Tony couldn't help the shiver of arousal at the show of strength – he knew exactly how strong Vision was.

Suddenly Thor appeared in front of Vision and placed a single hand on his chest. “Peace, my friend,” he said gently.

Vision's head snapped up and his eyes showed some emotion as they darted between Thor and the arms that were holding him back – bare, human arms that shouldn't possibly have had the strength to do that. The gem flickered, but didn't go out, as though the programming was trying to overcome the confusion, but the fear and panic he could see flickering in Vision's eyes was apparently stronger. Tony straightened and began to walk back towards the bio-droid.

“No, Tony, stay back,” said Bruce just as Vision's eyes lost the fear and the gem stopped flickering.

Doctor Strange stepped up to Vision and pointed what looked like a thick black stick at him. A blue light on the end came on and Vision froze. Then his eyes closed and he collapsed limply against Steve. Steve staggered slightly at the sudden change, but quickly recovered and shifted his hold so that he could lift Vision up into a bridal carry.

Tony stared at the sight for a long moment, before turning back to more important matters. “Okay, so glad that's over without bloodshed,” he said. He motioned to the gadget in Strange's hand. “I've never seen anything like that before: what is it?”

Strange held it out for Tony to look at. “It emits electronic signals designed to interrupt and overload mechanical devices. Shield created it specifically to deal with bio-droids. Of course, it was initially built before we were aware of the biological nature of their make-up, however with Doctor Pym's help we adjusted it to only temporarily knock out the subject.”

“It was frying their brains,” said Hank with a scowl.

Tony's eyes widened, his gaze snapping back to Vision. “And you're sure it's safe now?”

Hank shrugged. “Relatively sure. It shouldn't cause any more permanent damage than trying to take out the neural inhibitor, at least.”

Tony swallowed and then looked up to meet Steve's eyes. Steve smiled at him encouragingly. Tony took a deep breath and nodded slightly in acknowledgement. And thanks, because without his and Thor's intervention, Tony doubted they'd have ended up unharmed, regardless of Strange's little device.

“Why don't I take them down to my lab?” Bruce suggested to Tony. “At least I'm assuming that as the only lab capable of creating a sterile environment, that's where you'll be conducting the operation.”

Tony nodded. “Yeah, that was the plan. Also, there seems to be more security down there.”

Bruce nodded. “There is.”

“Right, then I'll go tell the others how things are going.”

As Tony left the lab, he heard Doctor Strange asking Hank to shrink some of the equipment so they could take it down with them. Seriously, he was starting to really love that shrinking device. He couldn't wait to get a closer look at it.

_“Sir, Captain Rhodes has just arrived to see you. He appears to be... highly agitated.”_

Tony groaned. “Great, that's just great. Tell him I'll– no, you know what, screw it. Tell him I'm in lab two.”

_“Very well, sir.”_

Tony swept into lab two. “Heads up, people, we have company on the way,” he said. They all looked up, Maria and Wanda immediately scowling. “It's Rhodey, and according to Jarvis he's a bit upset about something.”

Maria's scowl deepened. “Rhodey? As in your friend, Captain James Rhodes of the United States Police Force?”

The way Wanda's head snapped towards her and then back to Tony would've been comical if not for the glare that then fixed onto Tony. “What?” she growled. “You called the police here?”

“What? No, of course I didn't. I have no idea why Rhodey's here. Besides, he's good people, trust me. He knows about Jarvis and about the bio-droids.”

“Guys, calm down,” Jan said quietly into the tense silence. “Rhodey's my friend too and Tony's right, he's a good guy.”

“His people hunted you after you were declared a vigilante,” Wanda pointed out.

“Yes, but it's sort of his job,” Jan snapped. “A job he's very good at, and he definitely could've tried harder to find us.”

“Well, to be fair, they were sort of busy finding the Flying City at the time,” Tony pointed out.

“Not helping, Tony.”

He shrugged.

They didn't have time to debate it any further, because then there were footsteps running down the hall and Rhodey barreled into the room moments later. “Tony!” he exclaimed and then stopped whatever he was about to say next when he realized Tony wasn't alone.

“Hey, Rhodey!” Tony said. He gestured towards one of the lab tables. “Coffee? Muffin? Um, weird-looking pastry thing? What is that anyway?”

“They're tyroli,” said Pepper, rolling her eyes. “I think Vision got the hint to expect company at odd hours and planned ahead. Hello, Rhodey.”

“Um, hi Pepper,” said Rhodey. “Keeping company at odd hours sounds like Tony, but how'd he rope you into it?” His eyes roamed over the faces in the room. His eyes hardened when he spotted Jan. “I thought you said you didn't know where they were.”

“And when you asked, I honestly had no idea where they were or how they'd gotten away,” Tony snapped back. “Also, did you know the bio-droids are programmed to monitor their owners and take them down if they show signs of vigilantism or something?”

Rhodey stiffened at the accusation in his voice. “Of course I did. I'm a high-ranking police officer – and that information is classified, so don't even start, Tony.”

“Captain?”

Tony's stiffened and looked to the door in shock. Two officers stood in the doorway: a man and a woman he thought he vaguely recognized from the night of the attack. Their faces were set into grim, neutral professionalism. The man was lean with short brown hair and looked like the sort of guy who enjoyed a good laugh in the pub after his shift. The woman, on the other hand, despite her striking looks and wavy blonde hair, looked like she enjoyed punching things in her spare time. They were looking towards their commanding officer in question, waiting for his command.

Rhodey sighed. “Sorry, we don't have time for this right now. I officially have more important things to do than worry about hunting down vigilantes.” He took a deep breath. “Tony, you said you're working on stuff that could help save New York. I need to know right now what it is and if it'll be done within the next twenty-four hours.”

Tony couldn't help the way his breath caught despite his attempt to remain casual. “Oh, you do, do you? And why's that? Actually, more to the point, why did you bring Double Trouble with you in order to ask me?”

Rhodey's eyes slid back to the two officers. “They're the best I have and I trust them with my life.”

“Do you trust them with mine and Pepper's?”

At that the woman stepped forward. “Excuse me, Mister Stark, but at the moment we're really not interested in anything but saving the city. And possibly the country and then the world, but we'll start with the city.”

“Yeah, no point in setting our sights too high,” the man added dryly.

There followed a minute of tense, wary silence. Pepper was the one to finally break it. “Did something happen?” she asked with a worried frown.

Rhodey closed his eyes, looking pained as though he didn't want to face whatever he was about to say. He took another deep breath. “At nineteen hundred hours and forty-eight minutes, a joint US-Canadian fleet engaged the vigilante ship within Canadian waters, about three hundred miles off the coast of Newfoundland. Three hours ago, communications finally cut out. Two hours ago, the Canadian Coast Guard's scout drones finally sent back images from the battleground.” Here Rhodey's voice cracked. “All hands were lost.”

Tony felt numb at the news. Somewhere in the background he heard someone gasp, but he couldn't hear anything past the incessant buzzing in his ears. “How many?” he heard someone ask – Pepper, he was pretty sure it was Pepper. Or maybe Maria, she was efficient like that.

Rhodey opened his eyes and looked at the assembled room. “Sixty percent of our forces.” Another deep breath. “We sent sixty percent of our forces to stop the bastard from reaching North American soil. And they failed. According to his speed and trajectory, we calculate he'll reach Ottawa by daybreak. The rest of Canada's police force is gathering there as we speak, but it won't be enough unless they get really lucky.”

“Doesn't matter if you've got a hundred shots,” muttered the female police officer. “All you need is one good one.”

The comment made the corners of Rhodey's lips twitch. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a datachip. “This is the data the joint fleet managed to transmit out to us. Well, they were aiming at Washington, but we're on the same frequency.”

He handed Tony the datachip. Tony hesitated before taking it. Then he looked around the room, at the disparate people and faces. He cleared his throat.

“You know what, I think it's time to take this to somewhere we can sit down and do some serious planning. And what do you know, I've got just the place for it! Follow me.”

“Tony, I have literally zero time for your showmanship right now,” Rhodey snapped. “I'm in charge of the New York Division of the US Police Force right now, because everyone else has headed up to Washington. So I need to know right now, do you have something or do I need to order an evacuation?”

Tony glared at Rhodey. “Do you really think I don't get how serious this is?” he snapped back. “Yes, I do have something. Several somethings, in fact, but they're not in this lab or any of the other ones in this wing.”

“Then where are they?”

Tony smirked, unable to resist stepping back so that he could see everyone's reactions as he said: “Anthony Stark's super secret, private lab.”

“You found it,” said Wanda, her eyes widening in awe.

Tony's smirk widened. “Yup, sure did.”

 

* * *

 

Tony may not have built the manor himself, but he'd had to figure out its secrets on his own, so he felt justified in a certain degree of gleeful pride as he watched everyone's reactions to the secret elevator. Seeing the usually unflappable Maria Hill startle and then stare in amazement was a precious moment he would savour for the rest of his life. Rhodey looked like he was stuck between wanting to let out his inner twelve-year-old (or drunk college student, they were practically the same thing) and trying to maintain the decorum that his station and the current situation demanded.

It was a tight squeeze in the elevator, but the mechanism didn't feel like it minded the weight at all. Score one for Stark engineering. The doors opened into the now-familiar antechamber. On his left he could see Hank, Bruce and Strange gathered around the table in Bruce's lab, most likely looking over the scans they'd just done of Vision. He didn't see Vision anywhere, but the medical portion of the lab was on the far side that wasn't visible from the doorway.

“Hey, Hank,” he called out as they passed. “Leave that a minute and come over here so I can show you Anthony Stark's masterpiece.”

He heard Bruce's voice say something and then Hank was rushing to his side. “His masterpiece? You mean the arc reactor?”

“Uh, no. The arc reactor was actually Howard Stark's invention. Anthony miniaturized it.”

“Wait, he did?”

“Do you have blueprints by any chance?” Maria Hill asked. Tony looked at her in disbelief. She shrugged. “We knew he'd managed to miniaturized it, but the blueprints were his most guarded secret. Well, _one_ of his most guarded secrets.”

There was an ever-so-slight smirk on her face and an excited twinkle in her eye that told him she knew exactly what he'd found in Anthony's lab. Trust the secret organization to know more about his ancestor than he did. He paused at that thought and his eyes narrowed at her.

“Did Anthony Stark work with Shield?” he asked.

Her eyebrows rose at the question. “His father helped found Shield. Anthony's technically on record as a consultant, and a lot of the old Shield tech was designed by him.” She paused. “But the Avengers worked with Shield and Iron Man was an Avenger.”

Tony nodded.

“The Avengers?” said Rhodey. “Who are the Avengers?”

Tony waved him off. “One thing at a time, Jellybaby. First, Stark awesomeness.”

He entered his key code into the door lock and the doors slid open as the lights inside the workshop came on. He stepped inside. There was a familiar whirling noise and Dum-E rolled towards him, chirping happily.

“Hey Dum-E, I brought visitors. Say hello.” Dum-E cocked its closed mechanical arm, then expanded its fingers and waved to the group.

“That really shouldn't be adorable,” said Jan as she waved back.

“That's Anthony Stark's masterpiece?” Rhodey asked, sounding skeptical.

Tony rolled his eyes. “Of course not. This is the useless mechanical assistant.” He walked towards the back of the lab. “Jarvis, give me lights and music: it's showtime!”

Suddenly, several bright spotlights turned on to illuminate the armour cases. As the cases slid forward, loud guitar riffs blared out of hidden speakers. Tony blinked. He'd been joking about the music. But he also wasn't about to argue as it created the perfect backdrop for the armour as the cases straightened and all four suits stepped out onto the raised dais with two loud, metallic thuds. Then they stood there, towering over everything else, gleaming under the brights lights like ancient warrior gods.

“Holy shit,” said Rhodey.

“Holy shit is right,” Hank agreed.


	17. Chapter 16

By the time Doctor Strange had closed the last stitch, Tony felt like he'd gone several rounds with one of the armours. The tension hadn't left him once during the five hours Strange and Hank had spent in surgery, not daring to move from his spot behind the observation glass that had slid down from the ceiling as a part of the sterilization process. Jarvis had scanned Vision throughout the procedure and sent Tony a continuous stream of data from the implant. Strange, it turned out, was an excellent surgeon despite looking more like a stage magician. His calm competence went a long way towards helping Tony remain calm. Hank, on the other hand, wasn't going to be winning any awards for best assistant, but Bruce had periodically appeared to help him when he seemed confused about what the doctor wanted him to do.

Finally, it was done and the hideous-looking metal claw that had been clamped onto Vision's skull and hooked into his brain stem was sitting inert on a tray, covered in blood and yet somehow managing to gleam maliciously. Tony wanted to throw it into the incinerator every bit as much as he wanted to take it apart and study its innards. Hank carefully cleaned off the piece of tech, looking exhausted.

Doctor Strange left the operating room. “It is done,” he said a little too dramatically.

“And? Is he going to be alright?”

The doctor hesitated. “Only time will tell for certain. The brain is a delicate organ and the implant is something he has carried his entire life. From what I have been able to glean of the bio-droids, they have been genetically engineered to withstand a lot of abuse and to heal quickly – most likely thanks to a variation of the Super Soldier Serum, but that's just a guess on my part. There's a good chance that he will recover without any problems, but you should prepare yourself for the worst.”

“And that's what?” Tony snapped. “That he'll be brain dead, have no memory of anything, be regressed to the developmental age of a three-year-old?”

“Possibly.”

It was like a shot to his heart and Tony'd barely had a chance to brace himself for the pain. He closed his eyes, wanting to deny the possibility, the reality that maybe all of this had been for nothing. And then he felt a whisper of breath against the back of his neck and the slight, barely-there pressure of a hand at his lower back, bracing him metaphorically if not actually physically. Letting him know he wasn't alone. He relaxed into the gesture, wondering if Steve had been there the whole time.

Who was he kidding? Between Vision's surgery and whatever analyzing was going on up in the conference room, this was probably the most excitement the Avengers had seen since they'd died. Well, not _died_ died, since that would mean they really were ghosts, and since ghosts didn't exist that meant they had to be alive. Somehow.

“Tony?”

Tony opened his eyes and looked into Hank's worried eyes. “I'm fine,” he muttered automatically. “Just tired. Long nights figuring out the armour and, uh, stuff.” And working on the beginnings of his own design, but he wasn't going to reveal that to anyone just yet.

Hank held out the surgical tray with the clean neural inhibitor. It was bright silver and still looked like a small alien crab. Tony took it and examined it curiously. If he could figure out a way to disable the signal remotely, then freeing the other bio-droids would be a lot simpler. Because, yes, during the five hours he'd impatiently waited for the surgery to finish, he'd decided that he'd come too far to stop with just Vision. The United World Council was dead, which meant he wouldn't have to start a revolution, but thousands of bio-droids around the world were still slaves even without the Council.

Anthony Stark had changed the world when he'd stopped building weapons and started focusing on personal tech and green energy. And he'd built Iron Man. Tony would make Iron Man better. He'd revolutionize the propulsion industry by using the miniaturized arc reactor in personal transport. But, most importantly, he'd do what no Stark had ever done. Stark Industries had been built on government contracts, on – looking to the future, but always while working with present world leaders – in their own, special way, of course, because far be it for any Stark to blindly toe the company line. But they'd always stopped short of actually challenging government decision, at least publicly. Tony was done with that. He was loud, he was annoying, and he would make himself be heard. It felt like years ago, now, that Genri had told him he felt the world was wrong. And, now, Tony finally understood what he'd meant.

The world _was_ wrong. And he would help make it right.

But, first, they had to save it.

Tony turned to Doctor Strange. “How long until we know anything?”

“It is difficult to say exactly when I don't entirely know what genetic enhancements have been made to him, but I would say Vision is likely to be unconscious for at least a day, possibly two, as his body recovers from the surgery.”

Tony nodded. “Okay, then. Did you need anything?”

Strange shook his head. “Perhaps later. For now, I will remain to monitor my patient for any signs of complications.”

“Right. I'll, uh, make sure someone brings you some food and drink later.”

“I would appreciate that, thank you.”

That said, he and Hank headed up to the conference room where Pepper had taken the others to analyze the data Rhodey had brought with him and whatever satellite images Jarvis had managed to acquire. When they arrived, the room was full of tired-looking, grim faces.

“So, surgery was a success as far as we can tell,” he announced, holding up the tray with the inhibitor. “Apparently we won't know for sure until Vision actually wakes up so we can tell if he's still there or if we've accidentally fried his brain. How's it going here?”

Wanda looked at him with an expression that was especially serious. “We've figured out who we're dealing with at least,” she told him. “Jarvis, could you please bring up the image?”

_“Of course, Ms Maximoff.”_

The image wasn't the best, but then again, Tony had no idea what actually counted as quality satellite imaging given that the United World Council had held all control over high-orbital satellites for so long. Although he was pretty sure he could've done better than the grainy, out-of-focus picture on the screen. Jarvis magnified the image until they could see people wearing dark grey uniforms rushing about the see-through bridge of the spaceship. At first glance it looked a bit like the bridge of a helicarrier, except...

“Hang on, I don't recognize any of the tech?” he said. “Too many lights and zero holoscreens.”

“That's a good point, although not what we were trying to show you,” said Maria after a slight pause. “At this point we're actually assuming it's old tech and probably not even old Earth tech.”

Tony blinked and looked over to her. “That's quite the assumption to make, Hill. What's your reasoning?”

“This.” She reached forward to tap on a section of the holoscreen. The image magnified once more, this time focusing on a group of people on the bridge. There was a Chinese woman with gold trim on her uniform, who looked like she was shouting orders to several crewmen. “Do you see the band they're wearing around their upper arms?”

Tony squinted as he stared at the holoscreen. Sure enough, the crewmen were wearing white bands around their left bicep and the woman was wearing a red one on her right bicep. The bands carried a round symbol of some sort: a bunch of circles connected together into a larger circle. “Yeah, okay, I see them. Do we know what that symbol means?”

“Yes. Ten rings in a circle: it's the mark of the Mandarin.”

That sounded familiar. “The Mandarin?”

“The Mandarin is the villain who is believed responsible for the disappearance of the Avengers,” said Wanda quietly.

Tony's eyes widened. “And the reason Anthony Stark built Ultron.”

Well, wasn't that just lovely, everything coming full circle like that. It was like destiny, which Tony didn't subscribe to any more than he believed in ghosts. He vaguely heard Rhodey ask a question, but Tony wasn't really paying attention to the conversation anymore. The woman in the image was shouting orders, but there was a man dressed all in white several steps behind her, serenely watching the bridge. There was something almost familiar about him... Tony reached out and moved the holoscreen image over.

“Jarvis, how clear can you get that guy?” he asked.

He felt someone come over to stand at his shoulder. A quick glance found it to be Maria. “We're fairly certain that's the Mandarin. Jarvis is running facial recognition now.”

The picture came into focus. _“I'm afraid this is the limit to which I can clear up the image, sir.”_

“Thanks, Jarvis,” said Tony absently as he stared at the face he was now certain he recognized. “Son of a bitch, that's Genri Khan.”

Several faces snapped up. “Who?” Maria asked.

“The CEO of Prometheus Enterprises.”

“Oh my God, you're right,” said Pepper, who'd come over to stand by his other side.

“Well, that explains why Beijing was the first target,” said Maria. “Unfortunately, knowing who he is isn't really going to help us defeat him in the short term. We need to pull all of Shield's old records from the fight against the previous Mandarin. The tech's been defeated before, so that should show us what to expect and then we can put a plan of attack together. I'll go contact the base.”

“You'll have to go up into the main house to do that,” said Tony. “This area's shielded and comm bracelet signals can't get through. We found that out the hard way.”

_“If I may point out, it is currently past eight o'clock in the morning. Might I suggest a few hours of sleep while the old records are being gathered?”_

“Good plan, Jarvis,” said Pepper. She turned to the rest of the group. “There are plenty of guest rooms, so you're all welcome to stay and get a few hours of sleep.”

Jan yawned widely. “You know, I don't think I realized how tired I was until you said that. Maybe that's a good idea.”

“I agree,” said Wanda with a nod. “It will take at least two hours for them to put together the information and even my brother will take another hour to actually get it here – an hour and a half if he decides to be careful.”

“Then reconvene in the kitchen in four hours,” said Pepper.

“Sounds like a plan,” said Rhodey. “I've gotta go check in anyway.”

Tony continued to stare at the holoscreen image of the man he'd instantly bonded with all those months ago, trying to remember if he'd seen any hint of this madman who was capable of this slaughter and mass destruction. The commotion of people leaving had finished when Pepper gently took him by the arm and ushered him out of the conference room.

 

* * *

 

He did actually shower, crawl into bed, and close his eyes with every intention of falling asleep for a few hours. However, an hour later saw Tony pulling his pants on in a frantic rush, eyes wide with excitement, though not paying any particular attention to what he was doing, his mind already computing a dozen calculations and running through several scenarios. He managed just enough presence of mind to tread quietly on his way down the hall so as not to wake any of his guests (and especially Pepper). Then he tore down the stairs.

The kitchen smelled of freshly-brewed coffee. Clint sat on top of the counter next to the stove, his feet dangling off the side. “Took you long enough,” he said, barely looking up as Tony entered.

Meanwhile, Steve – beautiful, wonderful, Steve – poured steaming coffee into a mug and handed it to Tony with an amused smile. “Sudden flash of genius?” he asked.

“Oh god, you're not a ghost, you're an angel,” said Tony. He guzzled down half the coffee to the rich tones of Steve's laughter. “And, yes, I did have a flash of genius. It's pretty much my state of being, but this new idea is especially brilliant. I need to take a good look at the neural inhibitor, but I'm pretty sure I could reconfigure it to accept mental commands and relay them to a specific source, like the Iron Man suit. And voila, instantaneous responses! I mean, the interface will be the tricky part, 'cause the monster we pulled out of Vision is out of the question. I need to come up with something that doesn't require surgery to install. So maybe not completely instantaneous, but pretty damn close.”

Clint snickered. “So it'd be like a really high-tech prosthetic.”

“No. Unless you want your prosthesis to come with built-in guidance systems and plasma weapons.”

“Well, I don't know about other people, but I'd love a prosthetic with its own guidance system and plasma weapons.”

Steve frowned at Tony. “Are you replacing the repulsors?”

“Nah, I've tweaked them and made them smoother and more efficient, but for now they're the best thing I can come up with for propulsion. Regular rocket-boots wouldn't give the suit the necessary power to get off the ground properly. But the original Iron Man suit has a ton of old fashioned missiles built into it, which is useless given that, A, I'd have to build new ammo for it and, B, plasma weapons are so much easier to work with and take up less space overall.”

Steve and Clint exchanged looks. “Uh, you realize the repulsors can be used as weapons too, right?”

Tony blinked. “They can?”

At that, Steve pushed away from the counter. “Come on, I'm pretty sure Jarvis has some old Iron Man test videos on file.”

Tony wondered why he hadn't thought to ask about old footage. Not that he hadn't been having fun figuring the suit out without anyone's input, but taking a look at the Iron Man suit in action was a good idea. As an afterthought, he grabbed the coffee carafe before following the other two.

“Hey, Stark,” said Clint in the elevator.

“Hm?”

“You know all that Captain America memorabilia you've got stuffed in the vaults?”

“It's sort of difficult to miss. Seriously, who did all that belong to, Anthony?”

Steve made a face. “Uh, no, Howard. Apparently he got a bit obsessive after I went down in the ice and collected anything and everything related to me he could find...”

“Wow, okay. That must've been weird, waking up to that.”

“Believe me, it was. I was just a guy who wanted to do the right thing, never thought I was signing up to be a hero. Or a legend or whatever it was I'd become during the seventy years I'd been sleep for.”

“Cap, you were never just a guy,” said Clint with a roll of his eyes that seemed to say this was an old argument. For a moment, Tony envied them that familiarity. “Anyway, the Cap merch. We've got a bet going, so could you do us a favour and just mention it? We wanna see people's reactions to it.”

Tony frowned at Clint. “Uh, yeah, sure I can do that. You guys place bets? What do you bet exactly if you can't eat and can't leave the house?”

Clint and Steve exchanged a glance and shrugged. “We keep a running tally,” said Steve. “So far, Natasha's winning.”

“Right.” He supposed ghosts needed a hobby too. And, dammit, they were _not_ ghosts!

The elevator doors opened and they walked out. Tony peeked into Bruce's lab as they went by. Vision was still unconscious, the monitors by his bedside beeping steadily and Doctor Strange was stretched out on a cot at the other end of the lab.

“I told him I'd wake him if anything changed.” Bruce's voice dropped out of nowhere; Tony blinked and scanned the lab, slight movement bringing his attention to the barely-there outline of the meek scientist in a lab coat. There was a faint smile. “Sorry, I'm not as good as the others at staying corporeal.”

“You do just fine at it, Bruce, when you're not thinking about it,” Steve chided gently, though not without a hint of amusement. Bruce just shrugged.

“Oh, so you won't be able to help me use the neural inhibitor to design a new interface with the suit?” said Tony.

Bruce blinked, and Tony bit down on a grin as his figure immediately began to look less translucent. “An interface using the– oh, you mean you want to try and create a neural interface for the Iron Man suit?”

“Yup. Come see me once you're done with babysitting duty. Apparently there are some videos I need to see first.”

“He hasn't seen any of Anthony's original Iron Man test footage,” Clint chimed in.

“Ah, I see. Yes, you should definitely go take a look at that.”

Tony grinned and headed over to the workshop. “Jarvis, I'm told you have some old Iron Man footage for me. Cue it up!”

_“Right away, sir.”_

 

* * *

 

“Tony!”

Tony's head shot up. Standing above him, with her hands crossed over her chest, and a very unamused look on her face, was Pepper Potts.

“I _know_ you made it to your bedroom,” she said in either an exasperated or an angry tone of voice. “Did you actually stay there at all?” He opened his mouth to answer. “And don't even try and convince me you only just came down here, because I'm not stupid and _this_ , whatever it is you're doing, is not the work of an hour.”

Tony pushed his safety goggles up onto the top of his head and sniffed. “Pepper, I may on occasion forget you're allergic to tomatoes– ”

“–Strawberries, I'm allergic to strawberries, Tony.”

“Right, strawberries: they're both round-ish red things. The point being, that the one thing I would never, ever forget is that you're a highly intelligent woman. And I did try to sleep, honestly I did, but then I suddenly got this great idea for redesigning the neural inhibitor – and by redesigning, it turns out I really mean build a completely new one with a less invasive interface – and sync it with the suit controls to allow me to send it commands mentally instead of by strategically-placed touch sensors.”

Pepper sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Does this mean that you've figured out how the inhibitors work and whether or not there's a way to remotely deactivate them?”

Tony waved off the question. “Oh, that was the easy part. It turns out the inhibitors were actually designed to accept outside signals. I just had to break the programming code they used.”

“Well, then since you've done your impossible things, it's now time for breakfast.”

“I had some coffee.”

“Yes, we noticed when we tried to make ourselves coffee.”

Tony's eyes slid to the now-empty carafe sitting on the corner of his work bench. “Oh.”

“Yes, Tony, 'oh'.” Pepper picked up the carafe. “Now, I'm going to go make more coffee and, in the meantime, please take whatever you've found to the conference room. Jan found the trolley and she and Hank are putting a spread together. Also, Rhodey called and he's bringing doughnuts.”

Tony perked up. “And that's why he's my favourite.”

Pepper snorted in amusement. “Conference room, fifteen minutes,” she said pointedly before walking away with the carafe, her high heeled shoes clacking loudly against the workshop's concrete floor.

Tony slid the safety goggles over his eyes and turned back to the interface he was working on. He only had one minor adjustment to do...

The next thing Tony knew, there was a warm electrical tingling sensation running up his arm. A gust of warm air blew against his ear and he shivered as he pulled away from the interface. A gentle hand caressed his wrist and then snatched the sonic welder out of his hand.

“Hey!” he squawked indignantly, whirling around to glare at Steve.

The blond man was staring down at him with a stern face – which would've looked far more intimidating had his eyes not been dancing with amusement. “Tony, it's been fifteen minutes,” he said.

Tony gaped. “B-but no one ever expects me to be on time to those things!”

“Then think of this as the day you surprise them all. Now come on, up and at 'em.”

“What if I don't want to surprise them all?”

“I could carry you up there if you'd prefer.”

“Yeah, no. I'll walk, thanks.”

Tony stood with as much dignity as he could muster and went over to the digital scanner, where he'd left Vision's inhibitor along with the datachip he'd had Jarvis compile as he'd worked.

“Oh, and don't forget to mention the memorabilia,” Steve called after him.

Tony waved a hand. “Right, the bet.”

Showing up on time was almost worth it to see everyone's shocked faces. It also gave him the opportunity to pour himself coffee before they realized what he was doing.

“Rhodey, baby, you thought of me!” he exclaimed as he grabbed a butterscotch-glazed doughnut. He threw himself into the chair at the head of the table and swung his feet onto the heavy wooden top – making sure to avoid touching the electronic display. He scanned the room: it looked like everyone was accounted for. “So, do we have the Shield files yet?”

Maria shook her head. “No, not yet, but they should be here soon.”

Tony blinked. “Okay, wait, so you insisted I leave my workshop and you don't even have the files we need to get this meeting started?!”

Maria exchanged a look with Pepper. “Well, to be honest, we weren't actually expecting you to be here so early,” said Pepper.

“I fucking told him,” Tony muttered. He then proceeded to demolish the doughnut and lick his fingers clean, washing the sugary confection down with half a cup of hot, bitter coffee.

“You told who?” Rhodey asked as he sat down next to him with his own coffee and doughnut.

“No one. Oh, by the way, you need to come down to the workshop after so I can fit you for the suit.”

Rhodey blinked at him. “Suit? What suit? Why are you making a suit in your workshop?”

“Where else would I make it? The kitchen? The suit I'm making you – well, okay, refitting. I'm leaving a few of the missiles intact for nostalgia purposes, and because you never know when the 'low-tech solution to a high-tech problem' clause will come into effect. And the suit's guidance system is already calibrated for them, so it's not like it was extra work. But I've also added plasma guns to the arsenal, so you should be good to go.”

Rhodey's mouth had slowly dropped lower and lower the longer Tony talked for, until finally the Police Captain shook himself. “Wait a minute, Tony. Are you saying that you're fixing up an Iron Man armour for me?”

“Well, no, you can't have the Iron Man title, that belongs to me. I was actually thinking War Machine. It's a bit heavy, I admit, but the suit weighs a ton so it fits. It has a nice ring to it, I think. One that says 'don't mess with me or else I'll introduce you to what I really have up my sleeve'.”

“Uh, so if you're giving away flying, weaponized armour...” said one of Rhodey's lieutenants – the male one.

“Nope, sorry, it's just for Rhodey. Because he's my favourite.”

“Fair enough. Was worth a shot, though.”

Tony snorted. “Sure.”

He jumped as a large shape suddenly swooped past him soundlessly. Doctor Strange by-passed the coffee completely in favour of the neglected tea pot sitting alone at the corner of the table. Tony had wondered why it had been there at all – actually, he hadn't been aware he even owned a tea pot.

“Doctor Strange, good morning,” Pepper greeted him with her usual pleasant smile. “How's your patient doing?”

Strange looked up at her. “Quite well. It seems the biodroids have indeed been engineered with enhanced healing as well as strength. Still, it was brain surgery I performed, so I don't expect him to wake up for at least another two days at the earliest.”

Tony grinned. He'd already heard it from Bruce, but it wasn't the sort of news that got tiresome on the repeat.

“That's terrific news,” said Jan with an equally-large grin. “Thank you.”

Doctor Strange inclined his head, a small, pleased smile on his face.

Pepper's smile became several degrees warmer and more genuine. “Yes, it really is. Did you manage to get any sleep at all?”

“Ah, yes, Bruce took over watch for me for a few hours.”

Half the people at the table froze.

“Who's Bruce?” Wanda asked with a frown.

“And that reminds me!” said Tony loudly over all the confused murmurs. “So, while I was browsing through the vaults that apparently come with this house, I came across one that's like half-full of Howard Stark's old Captain America collection. Don't suppose it's worth anything to you guys?”

As he continued to speak, he watched the room carefully, keeping an eye on people's expressions as he ran his mouth, spouting off details about several of the things he remembered being in the vault. It took him a few moments to realize what didn't quite fit. He paused in the middle of describing the gaudy red, white and blue uniform draped over a male mannequin that was clearly too small for it. He blinked and then pointed directly at Rhodey's female lieutenant.

“You,” he said. “You look excited, like you know exactly what I'm talking about. But Captain America is a forgotten legend or something, so how do you know about him?”

The woman stiffened, her expression carefully neutral – and to be fair, it had been neutral before. If Tony hadn't been looking for it, he probably wouldn't have seen the hint of excitement in her eyes. And if she hadn't been sitting next to her male colleague, it wouldn't have been obvious just how confused she didn't look.

“I don't know what you're talking about, Stark,” she said smoothly, her voice steady and eyes looking straight at him.

“Oh yes you do. You know exactly who Captain America was and that's not something you should know. So, again, how do you know about Cap?”

The tension in the room felt on the verge of exploding. Wanda slowly stood, her eyes hard and merciless in a way Tony hadn't seen before. “Who do you work for?” she asked in a low voice. “I ask nicely only once.”

The woman raised her chin defiantly. “I work for the United States Police Force,” she said.

Wanda's eyes turned bright red.

A deep, male chuckle echoed within the quiet room. Wanda whirled around at the sound. “Stand down, Mockingbird, there's no point in keeping up the charade anymore, not when you're among allies at long last.”

The police officer's eyes widened, her gaze darting towards the back corner of the room. A beat passed and then she visibly relaxed. “Yes, sir,” she said.

“Director?!” said Maria Hill forcefully – because Maria didn't exclaim and only shouted when the situation absolutely called for it, usually because someone had monumentally fucked up. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, it sounded like you were planning for a battle and I know a thing or two about those, so I figured I'd stretch these tired, old bones and bring you the information you asked for personally. After all, what better resource to help you plan a battle against the Mandarin than a guy who'd been there the first time?”

“Uh, Jarvis, security breach,” said Tony as he glared at the newcomer who was leaning against the open stairwell door, his long brown leather coat concealing most of his form.

His voice sounded strong and the arms that were holding several paper folders were firm and steady as rocks. In fact, his body still held a strong echo of the bear of a man he must've been before old age had had its way with him. But now his hair was wispy and white, and his face shriveled and sunken. And yet there was an air of strength surrounding him, an aura of danger that must've been so ingrained into his skin that not even old age had managed to strip him of it.

_“My apologies, sir, but I'm afraid you are mistaken. There has been no security breach.”_

Tony blinked, finally standing to greet this new arrival. “What do you mean, there's no security breach?! I'm fucking staring at it!”

And now the old man turned his gaze to him, and Tony couldn't help the way his breath stopped for just a moment. The man's eyes were sharp and precise, like a sniper's scope.

The old bastard smirked. “Did you actually think you'd finally figured this mansion out, Stark? That you'd discovered all its secret rooms and entrances? Hell, I'll bet you didn't even think to check on still-active security access.”

Tony frowned. “Are you saying Shield has security clearance to the house?”

He chuckled. “No, not Shield in general, me in particular.” He finally stepped away from the wall and came forward, passing the files in his hand to Maria. He carefully took off his coat and draped it over the back of a chair. He was wearing a plain navy blue wifebeater underneath, which showed off muscles that were still well-formed and completely incongruous to the age he appeared to be. Well, at least his right arm was made up of well-formed muscles; his left was a silver metal prosthesis with a large red, Avengers' 'A' painted onto the shoulder. “It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Tony Stark. I am James Barnes, Director of Shield. Once upon a time, I was known as the Winter Soldier – though I doubt that means anything to you.”

The Winter Soldier... Tony wracked his brain to figure why that sounded familiar. Sif, he realized, had said that the Soldier of Winter had helped them fight the Mandarin. Well, fuck.

“Bucky?”

It was comical, the way the old man's superior smirk vanished, his face paling as his eyes widened in disbelief. And just a hint of longing. Bucky. Tony remembered that name: Steve's childhood friend. There wasn't even room for a single gasp in the stunned silence that followed. Tony turned to look to Steve, who was fully visible and staring at the Director of Shield in equally wide-eyed shock.

“S-Steve?” Bucky Barnes finally stuttered out. “Is that really you?”

“Yeah, it's really me, Buck.” Steve's voice was soft like a sigh. He swallowed, his eyes becoming distant. “You stopped coming. I thought that you'd...”

Bucky shook his head. “Stuff was happening and I was needed. And coming here was just too damn painful. If you were here, why didn't you show yourself?”

“I couldn't. Didn't learn until after.” He smiled, his eyes suddenly amused despite the sadness. “So, Director of Shield? How did that happen?”

Bucky made a face. “The super serum meant I didn't age as fast. It was Fury's replacement that recruited me really. At first I was mostly intelligence-gathering and a contact with all of Shield's sleeper agents, the new deep-cover ones like the Morse family.” He gestured to 'Agent Mockingbird'. “When he finally retired, he handed the reins over to me. Said he couldn't come up with a better choice for the head of an organization that shouldn't exist, than a man who officially died in 1944.”

Yeah, Tony couldn't really argue with that. There was an odd pang in his chest as he watched Steve gravitate forward, towards his old friend, staring at the man in wonder. Bucky for his part, didn't move a muscle, but his eyes remained glued to Steve.

“Alright, so for those of us who have no idea what the fuck is going on: what the fuck is going on?” demanded the non-secret-Shield-spy police lieutenant.

Tony looked over to him and shrugged. “Uh, did I forget to mention that the manor's haunted? Except not really, because I refuse to accept the existence of ghosts, therefore the Avengers are _not_ ghosts.”

“Except for the part where they've been dead for two hundred years,” Rhodey commented.

“No, he's right,” said Wanda suddenly. She was staring at Steve with those creepy red eyes of hers and a strange look on her face. “He's not dead. The energy surrounding him... it's the same sort that surrounds living creatures, but different...”

She closed her eyes and shook her head. “Sorry. It's actually rather difficult to look at; like having vertigo while you're on a roller coaster.” She opened her eyes again. They were no longer red when she looked at Steve. “I can see you, but it's like you're standing behind a fogged-up window.”

Tony's mouth dropped. “You mean like he's in a parallel dimension? Only not completely parallel, because he's still half in this one, so more like he's just slightly out-of-phase. Why the hell didn't I run a spectral scan in the first place? That was incredibly un-genius-like of me.”

Tony was already turning, about to rush to the workshop to see if there was a scanner in there, when a sharp “Stark!” stopped him in his tracks. Bucky glared at him. “No, first we deal with the bigger problems. The scuttlebutt on the comm system says a couple of Quebec farmers spotted the spaceship on its way towards Ottawa. The Canadian Police have gathered the rest of their defense, but we all know it's futile. It's only going to slow the Mandarin down. Which, granted, is better than nothing, but it's a far cry from defeating him.”

Tony swallowed. The math wasn't difficult to figure out. After the Canadian capitol, came the US capitol and then... then possibly New York. Because New York was symbolic: the financial centre of the world, the city where Lady Liberty had welcomed immigrants to the country for centuries, and the headquarters of Stark Industries. The city had grown to be the largest in the country thanks to the ZT system and the construction of the sea-expansions. And New Yorkers were... different. No one had ever been able to pinpoint just how they had come by their slightly defiant attitude: no matter where a person went in the city, they got the sense that its people weren't particularly impressed with any government, the United World Council especially. It wasn't enough to be rebellious, or called words like 'hate' or 'dislike', but just enough to be noticeable.

Knowing it had once been the city of the Avengers, the attitude made some sense. It seemed that even though the names had been forgotten, buried with time, on some level the city still remembered.

“Right,” he said, sitting back down. “So, show me what you've got, old man. By the way, Steve, who won the bet?”

Steve blinked in confusion. “Uh, Clint did, actually.”

Bucky snorted. “C'mon, get your head in the game, punk. We're gonna need a tactical genius if we've got any hope of pulling this off.”

Steve smiled, his face lighting up. “Unlike you, I've been here the whole time, ya jerk.”

“Oh yeah? Well then dazzle us with your Captain America charms already.”

Tony couldn't help grinning as he watched the two old friends bicker back and forth. Somehow, he knew that if those two could still joke back and forth, then all was not yet lost.


	18. Chapter 17

The Mandarin floated above the crumbled wreckage of the White House. Once the most powerful building in the world, its pride never fully diminished, even as its inhabitants bowed their heads before the United World Council. It was an empty symbol of a free world that hadn't existed in a very long time except in distant memory.

He could feel the heat of the flames surrounding him as the city of bureaucrats and traitors burned. Of course he knew the city's population was long gone, the President and his staff evacuated to a secure location, no doubt. But that didn't matter: killing people wasn't his goal, after all – only an unfortunate side-effect. Washington was a symbol even now, when it had lost all meaning. And it knew it. The defenses they'd found here were superior to anything they'd encountered elsewhere and they even managed to cause some harm to the ship. A day's repairs were nothing, of course, but not even the Flying City had managed that sort of damage.

Yes, Washington was a symbol, and now that it lay in ruins burning, it was an even more powerful symbol. Like the pieces of the Liberty Bell that lay scattered among the wreckage where he'd let them fall.

The twister beneath his feet intensified and carried him higher, back towards his ship. As he approached, he could see his crew already working on repairs to the hull, where one experimental cannon had managed to slice the side. Mei was working them hard, as usual. But the biggest part of their plan was now complete; they could easily afford to take a breather. He'd find her and tell her to let them have a rest this evening. Mexico City was the next capital city on their journey, but before that, there would have to be New York.

He admired the city for its irreverence, its refusal to completely submit to the authorities. It was a city that knew it was too big and too important for anyone to risk destabilizing and used that to its full advantage. It was, after all, the city that had given birth to the Stark line. And, even if they were long gone, it was also the city of the Avengers. No, New York would have to be dealt with before it became a thorn in his side – the sooner, the better. Central and South America would come after that.

As he approached the hangar bay, he saw Mei already waiting for him, though half her attention was clearly on the supplies being brought in from the city below. Genri allowed himself a slight smile. Yes, they all deserved a rest. He touched the champagne bottle tucked within the folds of his cloak, taken from the remains of the White House stores. Perhaps, tonight, he would finally answer the veiled, heated promise hidden within Mei's eyes.

 

* * *

 

The headquarters of the United States Police Force, New York Division (otherwise known by its ridiculously long acronym USAPF-NYD, or more locally as the NYD) was a massive building made of metal, glass and white, builder's grade polymer. Its roof was flat except for the large comm tower in the center, whose needle-point top pointed to the sky at a sixty degree angle. There were other, less noticeable sensor arrays and comm network distributors present as well, but they were only visible from above. The landing pad for the city's helicarriers stretched out behind the building next to the parking lot for its fleet of sleek, armoured wheel-less and flyers. Surrounding the building was a perfectly-manicured lawn punctuated trees and tastefully-cut bushes surrounding its perimeter.

Inside the station was usually a busy hub of activity: monitoring a city as large as New York took a lot of people existing on coffee, doughnuts and determination. It was the city that never slept, which meant its police force had to be constantly vigilant and sleep only when necessary.

Half the division was now gone, victims of the battle against the Mandarin, and the hub was nearly silent. Grief over their fallen comrades blanketed the station in grim silence. The shock that came with the new drone footage from Washington cemented the silence as reality burrowed its way slowly into their conscious mind. The unthinkable had happened and not a soul was quite yet able to believe that their capitol – and with their country – had lost, and lost badly. New York's crime seemed unimportant next to the emerging reality that fate was no longer on their side. Assuming it ever had been. Word of what had been found in the Flying City had quickly circulated through the force, but they felt too numb, too tired to be angry or incensed over those revelations.

Their world, everything they'd dedicated their lives to, the oaths they'd taken to uphold justice: it was all a lie. The station was currently full of veterans who'd given their lives to that lie and young recruits whose fresh dreams had been prematurely shattered even before humanity had had the chance to chip away at them.

When the sensors on the roof detected a small flying object, it almost came as a relief. Every officer in the building grabbed their plasma weapon – not even bothering with their stunners – and headed out to fill the fortified building defenses along the sides and roof of the building. If they died fighting, then at least it would be over. To go down fighting was better than to live with losing a battle they'd never been given a chance to fight in.

Suddenly, one of their armoured wheel-less raced up to the station. Dozens of weapons were primed as the doors slammed open. They relaxed instantly at the sight of the station's two remaining Lieutenants. Lieutenant Hunter was the first to notice the assembled defense. He raised his arms to get their attention. “Everyone stand down!” he bellowed.

“Sir!” one of the duty officers called out. “We've detected a flying object heading towards this vicinity!”

“Yes, I know you have! It's the Captain. Look, this'll all make sense once he gets here. But for now, lower your weapons and stand down.”

They exchanged looks, unsure what was going on. Again. But Morse and Hunter were good, capable lieutenants and there wasn't a person on the force who didn't respect them. Slowly, the plasma weapons were powered down and lowered – and quietly set back to stun.

A minute passed in silence, and then there came a shout from the roof. They looked up, finally able to catch a glimpse of the approaching object. It was small, no bigger than one of the scout drones they had flying over the city, but much, much faster. Light reflected off its shiny silver surface and, as it came closer, they eventually came to realize that it was shaped like a man. The metal man slowed to a halt in front of the station, hovering in mid-air for a few moments, before lowering himself down to the ground.

With a slight hiss, the faceplate slid away, revealing their commanding officer's face. The relief among the New York Division was immediate. It had been difficult to remain optimistic when their Captain had been spending so much time away from headquarters with only vague explanations as to why. Whatever this armour was, it was obviously a result of his time away. Something new, possibly a weapon they could use to protect the city.

Captain Rhodes' eyes scanned the assembled troops and many of them straightened reflexively. He then looked to his Lieutenants and nodded to them. They were both smiling up at him, Lieutenant Morse looking more relaxed than he'd ever seen her. He turned on the voice amplifier inside the armour. “Hello, everyone, sorry for the dramatic entrance. I appreciate not being shot at.”

There was some nervous laughter, like his force was still too numb by recent events to appreciate humour just yet. He cleared his throat.

“Alright, people, listen up! I know you're nervous and I know you're scared. And I know I haven't been around much the past couple of days and you're waiting for an explanation. As you've probably guessed, 'cause you don't survive being a police officer in New York by being stupid, this armour I'm wearing is part of that explanation. But, before we get to the actual explanation, I'm gonna tell you a story.”

He paused, watching surprise, irritation and incredulity wash over the faces of his people.

“Once upon a time, back in the ancient times of the twenty-first century, in fact, there were some violent days. But the history, as we've been taught it for the past two hundred years, is wrong. I'm sure you all know what we found in the Flying City, so it'll come as no surprise to you to know we've been lied to. The whole world has been lied to: the truth covered up, disguised as something it wasn't. You know those horrible vigilantes we've been taught so much about in school? Do you know what people in the twentieth and early twenty-first century used to call them? Superheroes. That's right, they might not have been the most elegant solution to a violent time, but they weren't boogeymonsters or terrorists. They were men and women with abilities beyond the average person, who tried to use those abilities and powers to protect the innocent and preserve peace.”

He paused again, glad to see his audience was hanging on his every word. For the most part, these were the very last people he'd think to take into battle. And maybe, for that reason, they'd also be the best.

He stretched his arms out. “This armour is a throwback to that bygone era, created in a time when people still believed in heroes. If you think it looks familiar, then good, because it should. It's the brother armour to Iron Man and comes straight from the former workshop of Anthony Stark himself – with a few modifications, because god knows no Stark could let any sort of tech pass through their hands without tinkering with it.” This time there were a few laughs, especially from the older veterans who'd been listening to Rhodey's stories about his friend for years. “Iron Man was a hero. But, as it turns out, he didn't fight alone. He had a team that higher forces have done their level best to erase from history. Together they fought enemies and protected this country and the world from threats the regular police force and army couldn't. In their words: 'If they couldn't save the world, then they were going to avenge it'. And so, they were known as the Avengers.”

“But that's ancient history now. Today we're the ones facing a threat that normal people can't handle. Hell, we probably can't handle it either. I know you've been struggling with the empty spaces where so many of our colleagues used to stand. You – no, _we_ – weren't there to protect them, weren't given the opportunity to stand by their sides and fight.”

Another moment of silence fell and the proximity detectors in the suit alerted Rhodey to the crowd he was drawing from the civilian sector that lived outside the station's perimeter.

“We weren't there to save them, but when the Mandarin comes to New York, we are damn well going to avenge them!”

The New York City Division of the United States Police Force might've been down to less than fifty percent capacity, but right then and there, they made up for it in sheer volume. Rhodey grinned and gently landed on the ground. Enthusiasm didn't make up for their lack of numbers, but it meant they had a fighting chance.

And, hey, a battleplan cobbled together with the help of several tactical geniuses certainly wasn't going to hurt. Rhodey wasn't ashamed to admit he was quite possibly developing a slight crush on Captain Steve Rogers.

 

* * *

 

Steve had taken the infirmary watch, letting Bruce go work with Tony and Hank in the workshop. The initial post-operation danger had passed and now it was just a matter of waiting for Vision to wake up. Even Steve could do that.

He glanced up from his sketchbook just in time to see a barely-there twitch of Vision's hand. Slowly, Steve put his sketchbook down and crossed the room. Between one breath and the next, Vision's breathing changed slightly. His eyelids fluttered. As Steve watched, the hand twitched again. Then his eyes fluttered again, this time blinking open. Brown eyes looked up and then widened as Vision quickly scanned his surroundings. The scanner beside him began to beep and Vision startled at the sudden sound.

Steve stepped forward and placed a hand on Vision's chest. “Hey, whoa there, calm down Vision. It's alright, you're safe, and you're still in the manor.”

Vision's eyes snapped to him and he stilled. He blinked once, twice, his eyes looking unfocused and slightly wild despite his complete lack of movement. Which was when the lab door abruptly slid open, startling the bio-droid as Tony ran into the room. “Vision!” Tony was at his side in seconds. “Buddy, pal, how are you doing? Do you feel any pain, headaches, dizziness? Do you know who I am?”

Steve sighed and gently put his arms around Tony and pulled him back. “Give him some room, Tony. This is all probably very confusing for him.”

“Oh, right, of course. Good idea.”

Vision, however, didn't seem to be paying attention to them anymore. He was frowning. “I am unharmed, physically. But my mind is noisy.” He cocked his head. “There is nothing taking it away...” Then he looked up at Tony. “You are Mister Stark, my owner.”

“Nope, not anymore I'm not.”

Vision's eyes widened and the presence of actual emotions instead of just hints was distracting enough that it took several moments for Tony to realize one of them was fear.. So he quickly elaborated.

“By that I mean, you're not owned by anyone. You're your own person, like you always should've been, because, well, that's what you are: a person. That noise inside your head? That's you, your thoughts when they're not being suppressed by the damned implant the assholes at the United World Council put into your brain. It's gone, by the way. In fact, it's sitting in pieces inside the workshop where it'll never control you or anyone else. Do you get that? No one will ever own you or control you ever again. That's a promise. And I swear I'll fight with everything at my disposal to defend your right to be free.”

Vision's eyes hadn't moved from Tony, but they'd gradually lost the fear. The bio-droid now looked baffled, and maybe a bit amazed. Tony twitched beneath the scrutiny and swallowed. How exactly did you explain to someone who'd never known freedom that they were suddenly free? Did Vision even have a concept of what freedom meant?

Tony stuck out his hand towards Vision, who blinked at it in confusion. “So, yeah, I'm not your owner. And I know that after the way I've treated you for all these years, you have every right to hate me, but you know, I've always been an optimist, so I'm sort of hoping you don't. Or if you do, that we can move past that. I mean, you've been my companion for years... and I was, uh, hoping that we could maybe upgrade that to something less, uh, one-sided like, maybe, friends?”

Vision's eyes snapped back from Tony's hand to his face. “Friends?” he said softly and there was something so vulnerable in his voice that made Tony want to forget the handshake and just hug him instead. Except that Tony didn't do hugs outside of post-coital snuggling.

Tony smiled instead. “Yeah, friends. Although, just so you're aware, it means you have to call me Tony. Because all my friends call me Tony.”

“Tony,” said Vision, as though trying the word on for size. And then, to Tony's delight, his lips widened into a small, pleased smile. His movements were tentative as he reached out and gripped Tony's hand tightly, yet with a gentle sort of care so as not to cause Tony any pain. “I will be glad to be your friend, Tony.”

Tony's smile widened. “Awesome! That's awesome!”

He let go of Vision's hand after a long moment and stepped back, still grinning. A hand squeezed his shoulder and he looked back to Steve, who was also smiling. “Oh, I suppose I should do introductions, huh?” He gestured towards Steve and Bruce. “These two and a few others came with the house, old friends of Anthony's. That over there is my new sciencebro, Bruce, and this here is Steve.”

“Hello, Vision,” said Steve warmly. “I'm glad you're doing alright.”

“You're Captain America.”

Steve blinked. “Yes, I am.”

Tony frowned. “How do you know that?”

“I was given information from the Vigilante Database, which is updated regularly during my recharge cycles. Particularly the Avengers, as any mention of them immediately activates Deathlok Protocol.”

“Deathlok Protocol?”

Vision pointed to the gem on his forehead. Tony nodded in understanding.

“That's exactly what happened with Pirouette,” said Hank quietly from the corner he'd been watching from. “Jan and I had been discussing the Hulk and Doctor Banner just before she suddenly went blank and tried to kill us.”

“That is Deathlok Protocol,” said Vision quietly. His eyes looked distant. “It is not a pleasant experience.”

Tony shivered. It was hardly a secret that bio-droids were often passed on from one person to another by the agency in charge, but it had never occurred to him to ask whether he was Vision's first 'owner'. He wondered what the others had had been like.

“Vision?” he asked quietly, because that was what friends did, right? “You alright?”

Vision blinked and looked back to Tony. “You wondered whether I would hate you. I... I'm not certain I know what to call what I am feeling, but it's not hate. I had... several owners before you and they were each different, but you were more different than any of them. You treated me differently than they had and I remember it had been confusing at first. You looked at me and talked to me, like you expected me to be more than I was. It made me feel warm inside. I don't know when, or how, it happened, but I know that suddenly I realized I was also changing. I would look at a painting and instead of just registering that it was showing a picture, I saw details and understood that I liked what I was looking at. Or I would prepare food and realize that I was making a choice because I wanted to cook a certain meal. And I became aware of having thoughts that were being blocked before I could express them.”

Vision's eyes suddenly widened in amazement. “I'm expressing them now, aren't I?”

Tony grinned. “You sure are,” he said, his throat inexplicably dry after listening to Vision. “In fact, I'm pretty sure that's the most I've ever heard you say at once.”

Vision blinked. “And that's a good thing?”

“Absolutely!”

“Besides, Tony's the last person who's allowed to tell people they talk too much.”

Tony glared at Steve, not believing his innocent 'who me?' expression one bit. Behind them, Hank snickered. Bruce... wasn't actually present anymore. Maybe he'd hit the limit on his corporeal-time.

Shuffling from the bed brought Tony's attention back to Vision, but Steve was already there. “Vision, you really shouldn't get up before the doc has a chance to look you over. They had to do some pretty invasive surgery to get that implant out of you, and there are a few tests he couldn't run 'till you were awake.”

Tony frowned. Actually, that was a good point. “Uh, Jarvis, where is Doctor Strange?”

There was a pause. _“I have not yet informed him that Vision is awake. I thought to give you and Vision some privacy to allow you to inform him of the situation.”_

Tony was oddly touched by that – even if, as a doctor, Strange was likely to kill them for it. “Thanks, Jarvis.”

_“You are most welcome, sir.”_

Vision, in the meantime, had apparently become fascinated with Steve's hand. He was no longer attempting to get off the bed: he had taken hold of Steve's hand and was examining it. Steve was letting him, curiosity and amusement mingling in his eyes.

“This energy,” said Vision, cocking his head to the side in a gesture so familiar it made Tony smile.

“As far as we can tell, it's actually residual energy caused by the friction of a pocket dimension expanding into our own dimension.”

“I recognize it.”

Tony froze. “You _what?!_ ” He gaped at the bio-droid, who continued examining Steve's hand as though he hadn't said anything particularly significant.

“I felt similar energy upstairs in the foyer after you moved into the house.”

Tony's eyes widened. “You – wait, you felt some sort of strange energy in the house we were moving into and didn't think to tell me? Those science degrees I own are actually real, you know.”

Vision paused in his examination and looked at Tony with a small frown on his face. “I know I wanted to tell you, but there was...” His frown deepened. “I didn't. I don't... The energy's still there, but I didn't remember it until now.”

Tony exchanged a bewildered look with Steve, not sure what to think. Was this something the United World Council had been trying to cover up?

“Do you know where in the foyer you felt this energy?” Steve asked quietly.

Vision nodded. “Yes, I can take you there.”

This time, Steve didn't protest when Vision got up off the bed and walked slowly towards the elevator, stumbling a little at first on unsteady legs. Steve followed closely behind, but if Vision found the hovering annoying, he didn't say. They rode up in silence. When the elevator door slid open at the top, Vision stepped out into the drawing room with a startled “Oh” and then looked back to watch as the wood panel slid back into place to cover the touchpad as the elevator became just another innocuous alcove.

In the foyer, Vision seemed to need a moment to orientate himself, but then he walked confidently towards the statues standing along the left. He stopped in front of the hideous screaming horse-man. “Here,” he said. “I feel it here.”

“You mean it's coming from the statue?” Tony asked, eyeing it skeptically.

Beside him, Steve was frowning. “You know, I don't actually think I remember where this one came from,” he said. “It's definitely not Howard's style and while Anthony did have the tendency to bring home the oddest stuff sometimes, I don't think I remember this one.”

“Nope, me neither.”

Tony looked up and saw Clint looking down at them from where he was leaning against the railing on the second floor landing. Beside him, Natasha seemed to be silently agreeing. Or else she was silently plotting to kill him – he wasn't sure he could actually tell the difference with her. He turned back to the statue.

“Well, the energy's definitely similar,” Hank announced, as he looked at the readings on the holoscreen from the full-spectrum scanner he'd grabbed on their way up. “Although it's much more stable and there seems to be less actual friction-generation.”

“So whatever it is, it's in this dimension,” Tony concluded. “Which is good, because that'll make it way easier to destroy or turn off or whatever.”

“Yes, it will,” Vision agreed. He closed his eyes. “Wait, I think...”

They watched in anticipation as Vision concentrated. Tony wasn't actually sure what the bio-droid was doing... until suddenly the gem on his forehead began to glow. Without realizing what he was doing, Tony took a step back. “Uh, Vision...”

Vision opened his eyes and a beam of yellow light shot out of the gem. The statue shattered.

Tony cried out in surprise and the next thing he knew, he was being pulled to the ground and then something large and warm was smothering him. It didn't take him longer than a few seconds to realize it was Steve laying on top of him, covering him with his body. Which was all sorts of sweet and romantic, and normally Tony would be all in favour of this position, but right now it meant he couldn't see what was going on. He tried to push Steve off him, but the blond only shifted so that he was looking down at Tony.

“Tony, are you alright?” he asked, looking worried.

“Yup, peachy, thanks. Now get off so I can see.”

Finally, Steve moved all the way to the side, allowing Tony to jump to his feet and race over to what was left of the podium. Which wasn't much.

From above, Clint whistled in appreciation. “Wow, wonder what kind of damage that does to a person?”

“I'm trying very hard not to think about it,” Hank answered immediately.

“It is considerably less... messy,” said Vision, looking chagrined at the chunks of stone now strewn across the back of the foyer.

Tony very carefully did not react to the sentence. Whatever Vision had done before didn't count; he'd been brainwashed. It was yet another sin to lay at the feet of the United World Council. And there were plenty of those to go around, so, really, what was one more?

The top part of the statue had shattered, the pieces of marble flown in all directions, causing damage to the wall behind it as well as the statues to either side. The bottom part, however had managed to remain mostly intact, except for a crack in the base the horse-headed statue was standing on. As Tony looked around at the pieces of statue, all he could see was stone. Marble did not generate energy no matter how old it was.

“You know from this angle, it looks like there's a light inside the base of the statue,” Natasha called down, sounding only vaguely interested.

Tony frowned and glanced up to gauge the angle, and then braced himself on the pedestal as he lifted himself up onto his tiptoes to look down into the crack. Sure enough, just inside the widest part, Tony could just make out a tiny red light. He tapped at the crack with a finger. Other than being cracked, the base was still in one piece. This was going to require actual tools to get open any further. Or Vision blasting again. Except that Tony was a bit worried of what would happen if they combined the energy from Vision's gem blaster weapon with the energy being given off by the machine itself – which should've occurred to him before he let Vision do it the first time, really.

A shadow fell over him from behind. “Is there something in there?” Steve asked him.

“Hm, yeah, there's something alright, but I'm going to need tools to crack this stone shell open.”

There was a pause. “Do you need it to be, uh, gentle?”

Tony went back down off his tiptoes and looked at Steve in confusion. “Well, not particularly, no. I'm afraid of mixing too many types of energy without knowing what this machine actually is, but I was mostly going to take a stone cutter or maybe a sledgehammer to it.”

Steve brightened. “Oh, well then that's easy. If you could please step back...”

Frowning, Tony complied with the request. Steve then proceeded to step up to the marble pedestal and pick up the remaining lump of statue. Tony's eyes widened as he watched how Steve's impressive-looking biceps were barely straining at the weight. In fact, he was lifting solid marble and unknown machine as though it were nothing.

He couldn't help himself. He imagined those very strong arms lifting him. Steve probably wouldn't even need to brace Tony against the wall to hold him up. All Tony would need to do was wrap his legs around Steve's waist and let the blond take care of the rest. Let those large, strong hands spread his asscheeks... Tony imagined he would be completely helpless, unable to do anything but go along with whatever pace Steve set, because no amount of squirming would make any sort of difference to that sort of strength. His legs were probably just as strong, just as steady and able to keep balance while he fucked slowly into Tony–

Steve threw the statue at the floor and the crash echoed off the walls of the foyer. Tony jumped, his brain rebooting back to the task at hand. The statue's base had cracked open like a nut and in the midst of jagged chunks of marble, lay an unfamiliar device. He was kneeling beside it seconds later. And then Hank was kneeling next to him, already programming a scan cycle into the full-spectrum scanner.

“What the hell is going on out here?!”

Tony winced as the door into the main hall slammed shut. That was Pepper's 'you have three words to explain this to my satisfaction or else there will be fire and brimstone and shriveling of unmentionables' tone of voice. Then there was a loud, horrified gasp.

Tony looked up at Pepper and flashed her his most charming smile. “Don't worry, Pepper, it was the ugly statue.”

She glared at him. Then she noticed Vision and her glared lifted, turning into delight. “Vision, you're awake! And out of bed...” She glared at Tony again.

“An astute observation, Ms Potts,” said a smooth voice with what sounded like an especially dangerous purr. “Why was I not informed that my patient was awake?”

“Uhh...” was all Tony managed. He had good reasons, he knew he did. Maybe he could blame it all on Jarvis...

“Never mind.” Strange cut off any excuses Tony was about to make as he descend the stairs. “Vision, please come with me. Now that you're awake there are several tests I need to run to make sure you are recovering satisfactorily.”

Vision nodded. “Yes, Doctor.”

Tony pouted as he watched them leave. “Hey, Vision, you know you can say 'no' to anything anyone says now, right?” he called after them.

“Not when it pertains to his medical health,” Strange snapped.

Vision cocked his head thoughtfully. “Thank you, I will be sure to remember that the next time you ask me for a bottle of scotch.”

Tony gaped after them as laughter filled the foyer.

 

* * *

 

Tony, Hank and Bruce spent over an hour kneeling on the hard floor of the foyer, examining the device from all sides. Tony had wanted to move it into the workshop, but Bruce had pointed out that maybe moving it when they weren't sure what it did wasn't a good idea. Interestingly enough, this was also when they found out that Bruce couldn't touch it. His hand slid right through the device and no amount of concentration could change that. It was the same with Steve.

The main problem was that the device was completely smooth. There were indentations and two rows of engraved symbols along the side that looked like it was possibly writing – albeit in a language none of them had ever seen before – but it had no seams, nothing to indicate how to get it open or how to operate it.

“You know, it almost feels like we're missing something,” Hank said when they were well into their second hour of observing and speculating.

“Yes, I was thinking about that,” Bruce agreed. “The energy is definitely coming from the device, but there are no visible controls.”

“Which means there must be a separate controller,” Tony concluded. He straightened and scanned the debris.

“It could be anywhere,” Hank pointed out. “In fact, whoever planted the device could've just taken it with them.”

Tony tried to envision the statue in his mind. “Wait, wasn't it holding a box? No, it definitely was holding a box with both hands. Where did it fly off to?”

They searched the room. After a few minutes, Natasha suddenly appeared by Tony's side. He jumped with a startled yelp. She ignored his reaction and pointed over to the side of the foyer, just in the shadow of the staircase. Sure enough, there was a small, now considerably less box-shaped box hiding in the shadows. Tony hurried over and moved the ornately-carved top to the side and, in the ruins of the base, found a palm-sized device.

It was cracked along the side, where it had impacted with the wall and the front was dented where the lid had crushed it. They tried to make it work anyway, but gave up fairly quickly when it became obvious the controller wasn't going to control anything ever again.

Tony finally won the argument about taking the device back to the lab. The regular, manor lab, not the secret one in the basement. Once there, they had Jarvis scan it properly and used one of Strange's x-ray machines to scan it again. They also argued a lot. At some point later on, Steve and Thor wandered into the lab. Steve placed a plateful of sandwiches on the lab bench beside them and a tray containing two glasses and a jug of juice. Thor, meanwhile leaned over the device and examined it with a frown.

“It is a prison capsule,” he suddenly announced. The three scientists froze and turned away from the e-board they'd been arguing in front of to the giant blond warrior. “It is meant to keep the prisoners locked away and separate from the world so that they may neither interact with it, nor harm anyone in it.”

“Y-you can read that?” said Tony.

Beside him, Bruce groaned. “Of course he can. Asgardians have the power of Allspeak. God, I feel like such an idiot for not having thought of that.”

Tony glanced to Steve, who just shrugged. “I thought it might be useful to know what the writing on the side said.”

“It also says that only the wardens may turn the device off,” Thor added.

Tony held up the controller. “That would be with this thing, which is unfortunately a bit on the kaput side.”

“That is truly unfortunate.”

“No kidding, big guy.”

“On the bright side, if it was designed as a prison, then that means it's less likely to blow up in our faces if we, uh, blow it up,” said Hank.

“Yes, there is definitely less of a likelihood of someone designing a device meant to hold criminals that could cause a massive explosion if tampered with,” said Bruce.

“Except that Thor just said it was meant to keep the prisoners separate, but you guys can show yourselves and interact with others,” Tony pointed out.

“But we couldn't at first,” said Steve. “It probably wasn't designed to hold anyone for as long as we've been in it.”

Tony conceded the point. Who would keep prisoners for over two hundred years? “Well, not that this comes as any sort of surprise, but I guess that confirms we're dealing with alien tech.”

“And that it probably was the Mandarin who did this to us two hundred years ago,” Bruce added. “Everything we've seen indicates whatever he's using is of extraterrestrial origin.”

“Indeed,” Thor rumbled. “Were I able to speak to my father, he would no doubt recognize the race to whom this device belongs. Alas, it is of a design I do not recognize.”

“So what do we do now?” Bruce asked.

Tony met Steve's eyes. The other man's expression was calm, but there was a definite tension in the way he held himself perfectly still, as though trying very hard not to give any indication to what he was thinking. “We destroy it,” he said.

Steve grinned. “Then we should do it in style. Can you please ask Jarvis to call the Avengers to assemble here?”

“Uh, sure,” Tony said. He watched as Steve walked over to the door and leaned out to retrieve something he'd apparently left just outside. “Jarvis? Can you get the Avengers to come here?”

_“Yes, sir. And, if I may, I believe the term you're looking for is 'assemble'.”_

Tony frowned. “Oh, is that, like, an official term or something?”

“Yup,” Steve answered as he threw a large object at Tony.

Tony caught it and then blinked down at the gauntlet from his suit. It wasn't from one of Anthony's, either, this was the gauntlet from the suit he was building himself. When Steve came to stand beside him, Tony immediately noticed the shield he was carrying. He'd seen it in pictures – the vault downstairs held several replicas – but this was his first time seeing it in person. It was shiny and looked well-maintained, not a scratch to be seen anywhere. But then, by all accounts, vibranium was nearly indestructible.

They waited for the Avengers to arrive. Pepper, Jan, Vision and Strange arrived with them.

“So, any final, inspiring words to mark the occasion?” Tony asked Steve as they both took their positions.

“Nope, I just want to kill this thing dead.”

“Good words, I like them. On three then. One... two... three!”

Tony fired his repulsor. The blast hit the device, and blue energy sizzled around its casing. Then Steve stepped forward and brought his shield down.

There was a small explosion and then a bright flash of light.


	19. Chapter 18

Tony surged awake, suddenly engulfed by a tsunami of noise. Wide-eyed, he frantically looked around the room, trying to figure out where the sound was coming from as his heart tried to beat its way out of his chest.

He was in his bedroom, that much was obvious. And he was alone. That was good... wait. He looked to the rumpled spot on the bed beside him. Okay, right, that hadn't been a dream. Awesome. He stared at the spot for a moment, his mind flashing to an image of its previous occupant's blissed-out smile the night before, a smile that had been visible even after the lights had gone out and he'd fallen asleep draped over Tony like a warm, snuggly barnacle.

The bathroom door slammed open and said previous occupant rushed into the room, toweling his hair, and wearing nothing but that towel on his head. Tony stared at the drops of water that had escaped the towel and which were slowly trailing down his neck and towards his sternum.

“Jarvis, report: what's going on?” Steve demanded, his movements sharp and voice commanding. Last night, he'd blushed at the very mention of sex, but now he seemed completely unconcerned for his own nakedness.

_“Satellite surveillance shows the Mandarin's ship has just passed the fifteen mile mark. According to my calculations, it will be within sight of New York in one hour and eight minutes.”_

Steve turned his back to Tony as he draped the damp towel over the back of a chair, presenting Tony with a lovely view of his ass. It was a magnificent ass. And one Tony had gotten very personal with not that long ago. Sadly, the bite mark he'd left there had already healed.

“Have you contacted the others?”

_“Indeed, I have contacted both the New York Division and Shield. Both Director Barnes and Captain Rhodes have confirmed they are headed into position.”_

“Good. Thank you, Jarvis.”

Steve bent over to pick something off the floor. Tony's mouth went dry.

And then something soft smacked him in face.

“Stark, get a move on! We've got a date with an evil villain, remember?”

Tony pulled the fabric off and made a face when he saw they were the boxers he'd been wearing last night. He glowered at Steve, who was now covering that glorious body with clothes. Steve glanced over his shoulder at Tony, just enough for him to catch the mischievous look in the blond's eye. Oh that bastard.

“Is that what all this noise is about?” Tony asked as he finally slipped out of bed.

“Yup, it's the Avenger's Alert. Like the Bat Signal, only louder.”

“Like the what?”

Steve froze and turned to Tony. “You don't know Batman? Oh, of course, fictional vigilantes would still be considered vigilantes. We should do team movie night later. I think you'll like Batman; he was Anthony's favourite superhero.”

“Sure, whatever, Cap.”

They met the other Avengers down in the Surveillance Room. Several holoscreens were broadcasting satellite images as well as flipping through footage from all the optical eyes Jarvis could get control of. Rhodey's image was projecting out of one open com and Barnes' out of another. Bruce, Pepper and Thor were already present and watching the footage with critical eyes. Steve immediately walked over to Barnes' projection and began to confirm information... or something. Then Natasha and Clint walked into the room, arms full of plasma guns, which they dumped onto the table.

Rhodey raised an eyebrow at the stash. “Oh, so _that's_ why Stane's goons weren't nearly as heavily-armed as we would've expected them to be.”

Tony blinked. “Wait, really? You got those from Stane?”

Natasha just looked at him blankly. “Spoils of war.”

“Besides, Steve's the one who actually took them,” Clint added.

Rhodey and Tony both turned at Steve, who just shrugged. “Force of habit.”

“Shame they didn't have any tanks to steal,” Barnes added with an amused grin.

Steve cleared his throat and brought the short meeting to order. They'd already planned everything, so there wasn't really much to say to each other except for 'See you out there' and 'Good luck'.

“Maria and Wanda are on their way to get you with one of our passenger flyers,” Barnes said after Rhodey had signed off. “That antique quinjet you've got sitting on the pad shouldn't be flown anywhere.”

“Yes, I'm fairly certain the fuel cells will explode if we try to make it do anything,” Bruce agreed.

“Well, I've got my own transport,” said Tony.

“As do I,” said Thor, raising Mjolnir. The former lawn ornament looked much less innocent in the hands of the Asgardian warrior.

“We're taking Lola,” Natasha announced. Beside her, Clint nodded in agreement.

Tony frowned. “Lola? Who's Lola?”

 

* * *

 

The Mandarin stepped onto the bridge, nodding to Mei as he walked past her to the command post, stepping onto the raised dais that over-looked the bridge. Mei's face was sharp. Serious. They were heading for battle; she had no smiles for him now and he wanted none from her. She was his second, after all, and not some simpering girl. He took his position in front of the half-circle console and looked out the viewing window that took up the entire front of the bridge.

In the distance he could just make out the beginning of New York City's smoggy sprawl. It was one of the largest cities in the world, and had been one of the most powerful, even before he'd destroyed the others. Its fall would bring about another sort of chaos. He glanced down at one of the small screens on the console. The city was still full of life signs. Foolish, proud New Yorkers.

“Sir, we're detecting a single helicarrier just outside the city perimeter,” announced the young man watching the external sensors. “According to its IDS, it belongs to the United States Police Force.”

“A single helicarrier?” the Mandarin asked with a deep frown. “You are certain that's all you're detecting?”

“Yes, sir.”

“We identified seven helicarriers from the New York Division present at the sea battle,” Mei told him softly. “And two more in Washington. This is likely the only one that stayed behind.”

One of the men manning the weapon's systems sniggered. “Idiots. They deserve to die if they think they stand a chance.”

“Silence!” the Mandarin snapped. He glared at the man for a moment, watching as he cringed away. Then he looked back out of the window towards the single helicarrier. “The men and women aboard that vessel have watched as their comrades fell against us; they know they ride out to die. And yet they have chosen to fight, to defend their home with their last breath. They will die with honour and thus do not deserve to be ridiculed.”

Out of the corner of his eye he spotted Mei speaking with the sensor technician in quiet tones. As always, she was reading his mind.

“Besides, we would be the fools if we looked no further than that one vessel. We defeated the United World Council because they underestimated us – it would be extremely foolish of us to do the same here. Commander?”

Mei turned to him. “Lord Mandarin, we are detecting a perimeter of surface-to-air weapons.” She paused. “The sensors are also showing something unusual just to the south-east, at cloud-level.”

“Unusual how?”

Mei indicated to the tech to answer the question. The young man nodded and touched a few controls. “I can't get a steady reading, sir. The sensors show unusual energy readings: not particularly high as such, but spread-out. But there's nothing on visual. Sir, the output is different, but the scans are similar to those from the Flying City.”

“Hm, so you're thinking it could be a cloaked vessel? Saoh?”

With a single push, the diminutive engineer slid his chair over to the younger technician and looked over his shoulder. “It's possible, sir.”

“Well, now that certainly makes things interesting.” The Mandarin stroked his chin. “The United World Council would not have shared the technology with anyone, however that does not necessarily mean that someone else did not develop it independently from them.”

“They could've salvaged it from the Flying City,” Saoh suggested. “It should've reached the continent ahead of us.”

“Is the area large enough to be a helicarrier?”

A pause. “It would be of a smaller make than the ones typically used by the USAPF, but theoretically possible. Most of South America uses helicarriers that are about this size.”

The Mandarin closed his eyes, mentally sending a message to the robot. He received acknowledgment back almost immediately. The robot was connected to the ship and to the rings in a way he didn't entirely understand, but wasn't about to question given that it was stronger than a dozen men and didn't falter in completing its orders. Genri had been very careful to keep it out of any battle footage. He opened his eyes and looked to Mei. “Have the flyers ready and standing by. And I want a boarding crew assembled for that cloaked helicarrier. If someone else has cloaking abilities, I want to know where it came from. Saoh, I want you here until the helicarrier's been secured.”

“Yes, sir,” Mei said and then hurried off to relay the commands to the main hanger. Saoh nodded and returned to his own station.

“Sir, we are receiving a message from the USAPF helicarrier,” announced Ayame, the tall, thin woman who was manning the communications console. “They want to know if we surrender.”

The Mandarin raised an eyebrow. “Of course not.”

The older woman nodded, her eyes never leaving the controls. He watched for a moment. Requesting their surrender was a bold move indeed. Were they bluffing or did New York genuinely have something hiding behind holographic interfaces? Other than the invisible vessel, that is. He smirked. “Target the cloaked helicarrier and fire at will.”

“Yes, sir.”

Hands clasped casually behind her back, Mei made her way back over to his side. Her lips quirked in amusement. “You always did enjoy proving you cannot be out-smarted.”

He shrugged. It was hardly worth denying, after all.

The ship barely shuttered as two plasma beams shot out towards an empty patch of sky.

“Sir, impact to the upper hull!” a tech called out. “I think something's lan–”

Suddenly, the ship shook violently. Someone cried out in surprise. The Mandarin grabbed hold of the console in front of him for balance. And it continued to shake. “What's going on?” he yelled.

His attention was caught by a single object as it struck the large front window. It was, of all things, a giant hammer. He frowned at it. And then, just as suddenly, it was gone, flying back to wherever it had come from, leaving behind a single, small crack. The ship shook violently again.

“Lord Mandarin, the sensors are picking up a second helicarrier! It's right above us in the targeting array's blindspot!”

“What? Why didn't we have advanced warning?”

“I'm sorry sir, I don't know! It wasn't there until just now!”

Irritated, he gritted his teeth. Up ahead he could see that their first shot hadn't hit anything. A well-played tactic, he grudgingly admitted, though not one that would work a second time. “Maneuver us into weapon's range and fire!”

* * *

 

Tony was man enough to admit that watching the Mandarin's ship slowly approach filled him with nothing less than absolute terror. Thankfully, the heavy metal suit he was wearing didn't show his shaking hands as he stood on the deck of the NYD's helicarrier, his eyes continually glancing to the HUD's read-outs. Behind him, he could hear the commotion caused by two dozen officers preparing themselves and their flyers for battle. Since this was likely to be a suicide run, Rhodey had given his people the choice whether or not to participate. The only person who remained at the station was a frail elderly woman who'd officially retired four years ago. She was now manning the comm system and recording everything. If they lost, her job was to make sure to send every bit of data collected to the Boston and Los Angeles Divisions.

Including everything they knew about the bio-droids. And hadn't that just been another nasty surprise waiting for the team investigating the Flying City.

Inside the Science Block they'd found the facility responsible for bio-droid growth. The Mandarin and his people had gotten to it first, of course, so it was utterly destroyed and everyone inside dead. There was no mistaking the remains of several dozen giant glass tanks and colourful bodies in various stages of development. The pictures Rhodey showed him of rows upon rows of stasis pods had made him shudder, the image disturbing enough without the blood and limp, dangling bodyparts. If they'd ever needed more proof that the bio-droids were lifeforms, they certainly had it now.

Movement out of the corner of his eye had him looking to the right, where Natasha was sliding into Lola. In the passenger seat, Clint had lifted himself into a sort of half-crouch and taken his bow out, his eyes trained on the approaching ship. Behind them, Jan and Hank were grim-faced and tense as they, too, watched as the ship came closer.

_“Sir, at its current speed, the Mandarin's ship will be in sensor range within one minute.”_

“Thanks Jarvis. Get ready to initiate on my mark.”

_“Yes, sir.”_

He opened his comm. “Okay everyone, this is Stark – er, Iron Man, this is Iron Man. If Barnes' information is to be trusted, the Mandarin'll be in sensor range in just under a minute. Activating decoy cloak in three... two... one... now!”

Tony watched on the HUD as the salvaged cloaking device from the Flying City turned on, generating a barely-visible, yet clearly-there energy signature, the deployed drones echoing the signature and giving it the appearance of size. He watched it for a little while longer, until he was satisfied it wasn't going to fail.

“Alright, cloak is holding steady. Stark out.” There was no response, but he hadn't been expecting one. They'd agreed to keep the comm chatter to an absolute minimum until the battle started. He closed the open comm with a thought. “Jarvis, let me know if there's any fluctuations.”

_“Yes, sir.”_

Vision came to stand beside him, looking slightly perplexed. Tony tried to look reassuring. “Something wrong? You know, you really don't have to come. In a lot of ways, this isn't actually your fight.”

Vision cocked his head. “Yes, it is. You are my friend. Besides, the Mandarin must be defeated before we can begin to free other bio-droids, which you have a desire to do almost as much as I do. Therefore, fighting alongside you is entirely selfish of me.”

Tony sighed. “Okay, okay, just don't get hurt, alright?”

Vision nodded. “I would also like you to avoid getting hurt, Tony.”

“That's a plan I can get behind.” He looked away, his gaze once more landing on the ship. It was still coming steadily closer. He wished he could tell whether or not they'd noticed the decoy. The wind that blew into his face was cool and free of city smog, refreshing. He also wished he could see Steve, but Captain America was with Shield's forces along with Bruce and Sam.

Time seemed to stretch, slowly ambling on like the clouds just above their heads. The sun had risen a long time ago and was peeking through the clouds as though anxious to catch a glimpse of the action. Tony tried his best to ignore the steady stream of images his mind was providing: Beijing, Moscow, Berlin, London, Washington... Proud and mighty cities reduced to rubble. He refused to turn his head. He would not look back at New York. There was no need for one, last look. It _would_ be there later.

_“Sir, Captain Rhodes has just broadcast his message to the Mandarin.”_

Tony nodded absently. He turned to the group riding in Lola. “Alright gang, Rhodey's got the ball rolling. Get ready to spacewalk!”

“Seriously, spacewalk? That's a thing again?” he heard Clint say as his faceplate slid down.

Tony took a deep breath and no sooner did he think the command, the HUD showed him the locations of all his teammates. He grinned. The neural interface was working! And so were the trackers. Thor was still hovering somewhere among the clouds above the NYD helicarrier. Steve, Sam and Bruce were... still on the passenger flyer? Did Shield have a fleet of them? According to the HUD, the three Avengers were hovering just above the Mandarin's ship. He knew that was part of the plan, but what were they on? There wasn't any sort of energy signature coming from the area.

The Mandarin's ship suddenly tilted to the left and fired directly at the decoy. Tony smirked. “Gotcha!”

No sooner had the ship fired, then suddenly a large cloud directly above it shimmered and disintegrated, melting into a steel hull with a giant black eagle symbol emblazoned boldly onto its side. It was a helicarrier – of a design Tony had never seen before. High above him, he imagined he could hear Thor's delighted laughter along with a soft rumbling of thunder. Beside him, Vision was already hovering, using specially-modified hoverboots and on his other side, Natasha was starting Lola's engine.

He activated the suit's repulsors and they took off.

Proximity alerts notified him of an incoming object from behind and he angled a bit to the side as Thor's hammer flew past him. He raised an eyebrow at the weapon and watched as it impacted the ship. Impressively enough, it left a crack on the windshield. It was a small crack, but still. Score one for Asgardian craftsmanship. The ship itself was shaking now as the Hulk's giant, angry fists punched into its roof. Tony flew higher for a moment to catch a glimpse of the giant green rage monster – as Clint had called him – and whistled in awe at the sight. The Hulk was truly a sight to behold: his anger creating an aura so intense the air seemed to vibrate with it. He hadn't yet breached the hull, but there was already a considerable dent in the spot he was hammering at.

Realizing they were no longer in silent mode, Tony activated his comm. “Okay, so when you guys said the Hulk was big, green and angry, I think I may not have truly appreciated just _how_ big, green and angry. Wow, seriously, just wow. That should actually just be physically impossible.”

To his surprise, it was Natasha who answered him. _“Makes you look at Bruce in a whole new light, doesn't it?”_

 _“And now you understand why we don't make Bruce mad,”_ Clint added.

Above them, the sky rumbled loudly. And then Steve's voice came through the comms. _“Iron Man, if you're done sight-seeing, we're detecting movement in the belly. Looks like the hangar hatch is opening. Widow and Hawkeye are gonna need coverfire.”_

Tony rolled his eyes, but veered back down to flank the flying red Chevrolet. “Got it, Cap.”

_“I've got visual confirmation on the hangar. It's definitely opening.”_

_“Good, then proceed with the plan. Cause a disturbance, get Jan and Hank inside, and don't wreck Lola.”_

He heard Clint snort over the comms. _“Coulson would probably come back from the dead to kick our asses if we wrecked Lola.”_

_“Exactly. Looks like Hulk's almost through. Hank, Jan, I'll see you inside. Good luck everyone.”_

“Good luck, Steve,” said Tony. “Don't even think about dying for real this time.”

_“Don't worry, I'll be seeing you after, Tony. Cap out.”_

Tony took a deep breath and cleared his mind. Somehow, this whole thing didn't feel nearly as terrifying anymore. Or maybe the adrenaline was drowning out the terror. Yeah, that was probably it.

They were nearly there when the hangar bay hatch finally finished opening. A quick glance to the car told him Hank and Jan had shrunk down. Tony opened his shoulder pads, the gears shifting with only the slightest vibrations as two plasma guns slid out. He fired into the open doors. The HUD showed him a single arrow chasing after his shots at a low angle, and he mentally wished Hank and Jan luck.

A large, dark shape stepped into the hangar opening. It was humanoid, but much too large and clunky to actually be human, unless the human was wearing a suit of armour that had been built by an early twentieth century sci-fi enthusiast. Tony fired his plasma guns at it. The shots bounced off harmlessly. He cursed. “Jarvis, scan that thing and give me a read-out. What the hell is it?”

_“It appears to be mechanical in nature, sir. I am detecting an energy source in the lower half of the torso and preliminary scans show the outer shell to be made of unknown metal with no biological components. I believe that it is a robot or android of some sort, sir.”_

“Normally, I would find that absolutely fascinating, but right now I'm really not a fan.”

An arrow hit the robot/android/definitely-not-alive-thing and exploded on impact. Tony checked the read-out. Nope, no damage. Then came a series of sharp retorts that reminded him of the old spy thrillers he used to watch as a kid. He looked over to Natasha and Clint – and Lola, of course, who was apparently not only capable of flight, but also came fully-armed with automatic weapons. James Bond was retroactively jealous, he was sure.

“That is seriously the most awesome antique car ever,” he said.

He could hear the grin in Clint's voice as he spoke. _“Yup, this was Coulson's baby alright.”_

“Unfortunately, it's not doing anything against our new friend there.”

_“Hm, doesn't seem to have any firepower of its own – oh wait, never mind. Bastard must've been listening in.”_

Tony swerved to the left as the nozzle of a large gun slid out of the robot's chest and fired laser shots in quick succession at him. He heard Natasha curse in Russian as she banked the car to the right to avoid being hit. Meanwhile a double parade of sleek, one-man flyers flew out of the hangar from either side of the robot. Tony twisted out of the way of several plasma rounds and then fired twin repulsor blasts of his own at the lead vehicle. The first shot seemed to make it shake and shudder in mid-air and then the second one blew it apart.

_“Falcon here. Cap and Scarlet Witch are in and Hulk's moving forward to help Thor break through to the bridge. You guys look like you could use some help.”_

_“Hawkeye here. And we sure could. Turns out the Mandarin's got an unexpected guard dog.”_

_“An unexpected what– oh, wow, okay I see it. That would actually be cool if it wasn't trying to kill us.”_

Tony took a deep breath and fired his repulsors to full power. He streaked towards the hangar door. The robot turned to him and barely took the time to aim. Tony veered to the side, his momentum suffering slightly.

_“Avengers, this is Rhodes. On my mark, prepare to move down and out of the way.”_

_“Rhodes, this is Widow. Message received.”_

_“Falcon here. I read you.”_

Tony looked at his screen and saw that the NYD helicarrier had finally made its move, coming in closer while the Mandarin's ship was distracted. “Got it Rhodey. Just say when, Buttercup.”

Tony looped around the row of flyers and picked off another one. Further away, he saw Clint leap out of Lola and land on top of one of the passing flyers. Tony was suddenly jerked to the side as something hit him in the shoulder. He cried out in surprise, the sudden movement wrenching his limb sharply. He cut the repulsors and let himself fall several feet in order to miss getting hit by a second plasma shot. “Jarvis, any damage?”

_“There is some burn damage to the suit's shoulder joint, sir, but I believe it is negligible. You will likely require an ice pack. However my scans indicate there are no tears or breaks in the bones and muscles.”_

“Good.” He flew back up, this time streaking right in front of one of the flyers, causing the pilot to panic and crash into his neighbour, and the one behind to rear-end him in the confusion. Tony smirked as he flew towards the hangar again.

Which was when something slow-moving and colourful caught his eye. It was Vision. As slow as his rocket-boots were – even Tony could only do so much – Vision must've just reached the ship, his arrival having gone entirely unnoticed. He was now creeping along the side of the ship, where no one was watching. It was clever and quite possibly their best way to take the robot by surprise. Except that the robot was massive. Tony accelerated, aiming his gauntlets at the robot and firing.

_“Rhodes here. On three, get the fuck outta the way. One... two... three!”_

Tony brought his palms down and shot upwards, far above the ship. Behind him, he heard an explosion. Back-flipping in mid-air, Tony saw smoke coming out of the hangar. And then watched as the NYD helicarrier aimed another plasma shot at it. The Mandarin's ship returned fire and the front half of the deck exploded. Tony flew back into the fray.

Police Force silver and blue flyers flew up from the helicarrier and were quickly joined by Shield's black ones. The Mandarin's army's attention quickly turned to them as the larger threat. Tony tried not to feel too insulted.

_“Sir, on your left!”_

Tony threw himself to the right just in time to avoid being hit by a familiar rapid-fire laser shot. “Fuck, I hate that robot,” he grumbled. He twisted and aimed his repulsors at the figure standing in the hangar. The robot was barely visible amid the smoke, which was obscuring most of the suit's sensors.

Suddenly, Vision was there, the jewel on his forehead pulsing rapidly. And then a yellow beam shot out, cutting into the smoke. Vision followed it. Tony saw him preparing to throw a punch just before disappearing into the smoke. He slowed, unwilling to shoot into the gray darkness in case he hit Vision.

The smoke was clearing up when he finally saw movement from the depths of the hangar. Another explosion rocked the Mandarin's ship. “Jarvis, what was that?” he asked even as he read through the sensor data on the HUD.

_“It would appear the Shield helicarrier is attempting to draw the Mandarin's attention away from the NYD, sir.”_

The proximity alert went off and Tony looked over. Two flyers were converging on him. Well that just wasn't fair. He shot up and pointed a repulsor at each vehicle. He shot two blasts and watched as they exploded, pieces of metal and engine parts flying in all direction. He looked back to the hanger in time to see something fall out. No, two somethings. The robot, big and clunky as it was, fell like a stone. He could see Vision flip in mid-air, trying to use the rocket-boots to slow his descent. Tony didn't need to see the math to know Vision already had too much momentum and the rocket-boots wouldn't be enough.

He shot out towards Vision. And nearly crashed into a flyer, managing to swerve away just in time. His face came close enough for him to grab hold of the coupling that held the hovertech on and yanked it off. The vehicle stuttered for a moment and then fell. Tony didn't bother watching it.

“Vision!”

_“Iron Man, it's Falcon. I got him. I repeat, Vision is fine and we're going down to make sure that robot stays down."_

Tony breathed a sigh of relief. “Thanks Falcon. Iron Man out.”

A loud, angry roar thundered across the sky.

_“My friends, it is I, Thor! I am afraid I am in need of some assistance. T'would seem that the villainous Mandarin possesses some powers of persuasion which he is using to turn our ally, the Hulk, against us.”_

Tony sucked in a sharp breath. Shit, Barnes had said something about mental powers linked to the rings the Mandarin wore. That wasn't good.

_“Iron Man, this is Widow. We've got this here. Go help Thor.”_

Tony was about to protest, when a plasma shot hit one of the Mandarin's flyers on his left. _“Iron Man, this is War Machine here as back-up. Seriously, Tony, we've got this. Go make sure the Hulk doesn't start beating on my ship next.”_

Tony looked at Jarvis' scans. With the robot out of the way, he could see Natasha smoothly maneuvering a slightly-dented Lola into the hangar – it was probably mostly empty at this point anyway. Clint was shooting explosive arrows at the Mandarin's flyers from atop one of the NYD flyers. At least until he jumped onto one of the Mandarin's ones. Another flyer flew by Clint's position and Tony blinked as he saw one of Rhodey's lieutenants half-dangling from it as he expertly broke into the door-lock mechanism. And then there was Rhodey himself, sunlight glinting off the silver armour as he flew through the battling throng, shoulder-mounted plasma guns blazing.

There was another roar from the front of the ship. Tony opened the comms. “Rhodey, nice of you to join us. Seriously, you're like a knight in shining armour, only less medieval and therefore cooler. I'm heading to the front of the ship then. Let me know if you need me. Oh, and someone make sure birdbrain over there doesn't fall and go splat.”

_“I'm not going to go splat, Stark. I grew up in a circus.”_

“Uhh... somehow, I don't think 'circus' means the same thing to me as it does to you.”

_“You mean it doesn't have trapeze acts and elephants?”_

“No, definitely – actually, there was that one where they had an elephant trained to–”

_“Tony! The Hulk's over in the other direction!”_

Tony rolled his eyes. “Geez, relax jellybean, I'm going.”

Tony turned, firing a repulsor blast at a nearby flyer and then dove below the mess of flying traffic, racing along the ship's belly, towards the front. Lightning crackled across the sky. Up ahead he saw the lower half of the Shield helicarrier, a giant gaping hole in its side. Above him, the ship shook. Tony checked the scans. It looked like the disturbance was coming from the top.

The first thing Tony noticed when he finally reached the front of the ship, was a lone figure in a crisp white cloak hovering in mid-air. “Jarvis, is he Shield?” he asked, just to be certain.

_“Negative, sir. There is no one on Shield's current roster capable of unaided flight.”_

“Then I guess that makes him the enemy.” Tony hesitated only for a moment before activating his shoulder pad plasma guns and firing at the figure. Logically he knew he'd already been firing at people, and probably killed more than a few, but shooting at machines was different than shooting at what looked like an unarmed person.

The person, it turned out, wasn't going to let Tony become a cold-blooded murderer just yet. No sooner had the shots been fired, then the figure raised a single hand. Suddenly he was barely visible as an outline behind a sheet of glass. No, Tony realized as the plasma shots collided with the translucent material: ice. It shattered into thousands of glittery shards that gravity pulled downwards like shimmery rain. The figure turned in a single, smooth motion and Tony recognized Genri Khan.

A thought brought up a close-up of his face. Genri looked calm, collected, with only a hint of anger glittering in his dark eyes. This was the face that had indiscriminately massacred millions. Suddenly, Tony realized he was mad. He'd made friends with this man, had allowed himself to be influenced by his ideas, his methodology. Genri had never promised him anything, he realized this, and yet Tony couldn't help but feel betrayed. But then again, this wasn't Genri really anymore; this was the Mandarin.

His suit flashed an alarm and Tony twisted neatly out of the way of a falling Hulk, still roaring in anger as he fell to the ground. He was closely followed by Thor, who didn't hesitate in the slightest as he swung Mjolnir. The Mandarin raised a green, clawed hand and Tony saw one of the rings on his fingers flash just before Thor was thrown backwards, hitting the ship with enough force to make the mighty warrior cry out in pain.

Tony aimed his repulsors and fired. The Mandarin shot upwards and Tony raised an eyebrow. His body had barely moved. “Jarvis, give me a full scan. I wanna know how he's doing that.”

_“Right away, sir.”_

Tony flew upwards, wondering just how the man was functioning this high up in the atmosphere. The Mandarin held out a palm, facing it towards him. Tony twisted sideways and shot a repulsor blast at him. This time, the blast hit. It went straight through the man, his image wavering like a mirage.

“What the hell?”

The proximity alarm went off and Tony looked to his left–

And screamed as fire enveloped his body, making his nerve endings crackle and burn. Only when an impact jarred his back he did realize he'd been falling, the new, sharp pain managing to break through the haze of burning pain long enough to let him hear Jarvis screaming at him. The HUD was fuzzy, distorted and Tony felt like he was falling sideways. He turned his head. Oh, he was falling sideways, sliding off the curved top of the ship. Tony grit his teeth against the pain and willed himself to move, to lift his hand and to think beyond the pain in order to visualize a single thought. It took him two agonizing tries before the repulsor finally came back on. He couldn't help the cry of pain as the sudden force jarred his already-injured shoulder, but he didn't let up. Not until he finally stopped falling.

“Jarvis, status. What was that?”

_“I-it appears to have been a s-strong energy discharge, sir.”_

Tony winced at the slight distortion in Jarvis' voice. Then there was a slight blip and the HUD went completely dark for a moment – just long enough for Tony to start to panic – before it came back in a blaze of light, the image as sharp and crisp as usual.

_“My apologies, sir, the discharge disrupted a few of the systems. I have fixed the problem now and systems are fully operational, although I am detecting extensive burning across the front of the suit left side of the suit. I am not entirely certain, but I believe the suit's abdominal seams may have been fused together.”_

Okay, that wasn't as bad as it could've been. It meant he might need cutting out of the suit afterwards, but he'd deal with that after he survived the battle. This time his repulsors turned on without any difficulties. As he pushed himself off the ship's hull, Tony considered that maybe taking mostly-untested tech into battle hadn't been his best idea.

A blindingly-bright column of lightening streaked across the sky and Tony had to shield his eyes against the flash as it hit its target. Later, he would have Jarvis replay him the image and would see how the Mandarin used a combination of a small whirlwind and air pressure to deflect the worst of the attack. However, now all he knew was that when the light faded, the Mandarin was somehow still alive and floating in the air, his pristine white cloak now charred black where he'd used it as cover.

“Holy shit, what is that thing made of?” Tony asked no one in particular.

Jarvis, his ever-present audience, immediately responded: _“Preliminary scans indicate it is most likely made of adamantium weave.”_

“Adamantium?”

_“A man-made metal created during the late twentieth century to emulate and surpass the durability of vibranium. It, of course, does not share vibranium's internal vibrational properties and is rather more difficult to mold into form, however its durability seems to have no peer.”_

“Huh, interesting. I'm going to assume that's another thing the United World Council decided to stuff under its proverbial blanket.”

“Indeed, sir.”

Tony watched as the Mandarin straightened, looking much less put-together, his hair slightly singed and sticking up in places thanks to the static lingering in the air around him. Tony aimed a repulsor at him just as the comm in his ear exploded.

_“Falcon here. Guys, we've got a problem. The Hulk's still under mindcontrol. He's attacking the – shit, motherfucking robot! Hang on!”_

_“Falcon, this is Widow, report. What's going on?”_

_“Widow, this is War Machine, I've just got the report from Morse. The Hulk's attacking the helicarrier. I'm heading there to help.”_

_“Roger that , War Machine. And don't bother being gentle. There isn't a thing you can dish out the Hulk can't take and throw back double at you.”_

_“Got it. War Machine out.”_

Tony felt a shiver of anxiety as he imagined Rhodey facing off against the Hulk. Suit or no, Tony had seen videos of the Hulk smashing tanks as though they were made of aluminum foil. And then, to his relief, Steve's voice came over the comms.

_“Shield, this is Captain America. The NYD helicarrier's in trouble. Can you render assistance?”_

There was a pause and then the Director's voice answered. In the background, Tony could hear sounds of a firefight. _“Negative, Cap, we've got a few unexpected guests to evict first. We'll see what shape we're in after.”_

_“Understood. We're almost to the bridge here. Cap out.”_

Tony fired the repulsor at the Mandarin. The man evaded, but his movements were noticeably shakier. Thor's lightning had clearly done quite a bit of damage. And then, suddenly, the God of Thunder himself was beside Tony. “Man of Iron, I shall keep our mighty green friend occupied until you break this villain's hold upon his mind. I wish you a mighty battle and glorious victory!”

“Uh, Thor, your confidence in my abilities is inspiring, but how exactly do you figure I'm going to be able to take out this guy on my own?”

Thor looked at him, a shrewdness in his eyes that belied the confident grin on his face. “You will find a way, Man of Iron. Besides, you are not ever alone. I shall return as soon as our friend is of his right mind.”

Thor flew off towards the NYD helicarrier. Tony took a deep breath. Sure, yeah, he could totally do this. He was a genius after all, wasn't he? Then he looked up and met the Mandarin's eyes and wondered who he was kidding.

“Genri,” he found himself saying, because talking was good for staving off panic. “And here I'd been, admiring you. I listened to what you said, you know, and I've learned a lot about the United World Council since we talked. Maybe some of it I would've discovered on my own without a whole lot of prompting, but I'm sure it would've taken me a lot longer if I hadn't had your voice whispering in my ear, telling me things were wrong. And you were right about a lot of it, but now you're doing the same thing they were, so what happened?”

The Mandarin's eyes had narrowed at the mention of his name, before his expression became thoughtful. “Iron Man, this is a rather fitting coincidence. We've come full circle then. You are Tony Stark, I presume?”

“Yup, sure am.”

The Mandarin nodded solemnly. “Our predecessors fought each other long ago, as I assume you know. Two hundred years ago yours defeated mine by creating Ultron, the creature who, in turn, enslaved the world with false peace.”

“The peace was real.” Tony paused, wishing he could take the words back almost immediately. “I mean, there was no war or famine or daily violence, so by the strictest definition, peace was real. It was founded on lies and loss of freedom, but it was still a peace of sorts. By the way, none of us are actually upset that you destroyed the Council or Ultron. Hell, I was half-way to enticing a rebellion myself when I found out the United World Council was gone. If you'd stopped there, you would've been a hero, so why'd you go on? I just don't get it. Why all the unnecessary deaths?”

The Mandarin was silent for a good, long while. “The deaths were unavoidable. With the United World Council gone, the world would've quickly descended into chaos, into a war for power. I knew this almost as soon as I'd realized what needed to be done. To you, these ideas are new, but I have spent the majority of my life knowing the world was wrong and working towards changing it. Destroying the United World Council was only part of the solution. There needed to be a new power to replace the old before chaos had a chance to emerge, along with war that would come as a consequence of the inevitable power struggle. And so it was necessary to strip the world of its remaining governmental structures. Even now, I know that many of those governments are in hiding, including your own president, but the symbols of their power have been destroyed. Their people's confidence has been shattered. The world is ready for a new power structure.”

Tony almost hated himself for seeing the logic that so easily justified the massacre of several million lives. In a way it would've been easier had the Mandarin taken some sort of joy from ending those lives. Would it have made him more or less of a monster, though?

“Then this is where we disagree,” said Tony, leveling his repulsors at the Mandarin once more.

The Mandarin's lips quirked in almost-amusement, but there was an odd sort of melancholy in his eyes as well. “Yes, I'm afraid it is.”

One of the rings on his fingers glowed. Tony fired his repulsors. Like before, a thick layer of ice appeared in front of the Mandarin, preventing the blast from hitting. Only this time, the glittery shards didn't simply fall to the earth below, but froze in place until a flick of the Mandarin's wrist sent them flying at Tony. Tony instinctively closed his eyes against the onslaught, hearing the faint peppering as they hit his suit.

_“Sir!”_

Tony's eyes flew open just in time to see a sizzling flash of red heading right for him. He turned the repulsors to full power and shot up, the red bolt just barely missing him. This time, he could clearly see the whirlwind surrounding the Mandarin as the man followed. Tony aimed a plasma blast at him from his right shoulder, but it was deftly avoided. Which was rather suspicious.

“Jarvis, do the Mandarin's movements suddenly seem a lot less tired and clumsy?”

_“Director Barnes did indicate during his briefing that the Mandarin's rings seemed to give him some form of healing abilities.”_

“Right, he did say that didn't he?” Here Tony thought he'd done such a good job of stalling him and, really, he'd just been playing into the bastard's hand. Dammit. Maybe a slightly different tactic was in order. Tony twisted in mid-air, easily changing directions so that he was charging at the Mandarin instead. He aimed with the plasma gun and fired.

The Mandarin, while agile, wasn't quite able to match Iron Man's maneuverability in the air. Tony saw his eyes widen mere moments before a wall of ice formed between them. He cried out in surprise as he crashed into it. The impact shook the suit and Tony felt the birth of several new bruises, but it wasn't anything he or the suit couldn't take.

_“Sir, the air temperature around the suit seems to be dropping rather severely.”_

“What? What do you mean?” Tony looked at the exterior scans of the suit as he tried to move his arms. The suit was sluggish to respond, and he felt like he was trying to move the arms without any tech behind him. “Shit, he's trying to freeze me.”

It was the only thought Tony had time for before he was hit with a familiar fire that burned through his veins, coating every single nerve ending with lava-hot pain. His thoughts, gone, impossible to access from within the fire. His body screaming in agony. The world around him was red with pain and he was plummeting into the depths of hell, falling faster and faster.

He didn't even notice when the pain finally began to ease a little, a slight relief as his limbs still felt the memory of burning all-too-keenly. It was enough to realize he was the one screaming. He opened his eyes and watched the ground coming closer. Shit. He really was falling. He tried to send a coherent thought to the neural controls, but his mind was too scattered with pain and images of the on-coming freeway. Nothing happened.

“Jarvis, emergency protocols!” he yelled – or at least tried to from his screamed-out throat. Jarvis didn't respond. “Jarvis! Shit! Override to manual, code Cosmopolitan.”

Gritting his teeth, he forced his arms and legs to move, pushed at the manual controls in the suit's fingers with all his strength until finally, finally the Iron Man suit moved. The repulsors came to life with a sputtered heave and his momentum stopped.

_“My apologies, sir, the energy overload temporarily knocked me off-line.”_

“Well, I'm glad to have you back, Jarvis. Now let's make a pact to never, ever do that again.”

_“That would likely be for the best, sir.”_

“Right, okay then. Well, I'm sure I should have some sort of war-cry or quirky, incredibly memorable line right now, but I can't think of anything. But, if anyone asks, I totally said one right now.”

_“Of course you did, sir. I will make a note of that. Now, perhaps we should return to defeat the Mandarin?”_

“Absolutely.”

Tony increased power to the repulsors, soaring back towards the fight. The Mandarin was now covering the Shield helicarrier in a blanket of flames. Tony took a moment to consider the situation. His plasma guns and repulsors didn't seem to be doing much of anything. He needed something a bit more potent. “Okay, you know that thing we talked about before, Jarvis. That thing we haven't tried yet because it might be too dangerous?”

There was a small pause. _“Yes, sir.”_

“Well, let's do that thing.”

_“Yes, sir. I will begin re-routing energy now.”_

Tony continued to shoot forward. The Mandarin must've somehow noticed his approach because he turned around, his eyes narrowed and lips pursed in displeasure. Tony liked that look on him. He aimed a plasma gun, not wanting to waste repulsor energy just yet. The whirlwind beneath the Mandarin's feet grew, whipping up violently enough to make his cloak billow up and away from his body and his hair fan up around his head like a dark halo. The plasma shot was buffeted away by the fierce wind, missing its target by a hand-span. Then the winds calmed, returning back to their original purpose and the Mandarin raised his hand. A ring glowed and fire roared out towards Tony. Tony had nothing to fear from ordinary fire, but he twisted out of the way anyway.

He darted to the side again and flew circles around the Mandarin, taking easily-deflected pot-shots at him with his plasma guns. And then Jarvis notified him the power-reroute was completed. Tony flipped around, mid-turn and stopped abruptly, facing the Mandarin with his arms out to his sides, his chest-plate facing forward. He could feel the energy amassed just above his chest, almost searing hot through the metal. “Now!”

A bright column of repulsor fire erupted from his chest and headed straight for the Mandarin. Tony saw his eyes widen before he threw himself to the side, bringing his cloak up to shield himself from the worst of the blast. He managed to move quickly enough to avoid the worst, but not all of, the repulsor cannon. The HUD flickered for a moment and Tony missed his first glance of the aftermath.

_“Sir, power levels are at thirty-four percent.”_

“Thanks, Jarvis.” He didn't have much time left then.

Suddenly, the Mandarin's ship shuddered dramatically. Tony glanced over, noticing a familiar red, white and blue suit vaulting over a console of some sort through the broken observation window on the front. So, Steve's group had made it to the bridge. Good. The ship shuddered again and listed to the side. That was hopefully Hank and Jan disabling the propulsion units. Go them.

He turned his attention back to the Mandarin. Who was staring at the ship, furious. When he turned back to Tony, his eyes were murderous. “How dare you!”

“Uh, excuse me, we're only killing your ship. You're the one killing _people._ ”

The Mandarin raised his hands and the wind beneath his feet instantly blew outward, whipping into a frenzy that encircled them both into a wide column that looked like the eye of a hurricane. Tony looked at the suits external scans, whistling softly when he saw how fast the winds were blowing. If they touched down on either helicarrier, they could cause quite a bit of destruction. Tony slid open both plasma ports and aimed his repulsors and then shot everything he had at the Mandarin in rapid succession, flying in circles that brought him almost close enough to reach out and grab the man by his not-so-pristine white robe. The Mandarin dodged each shot, until finally Tony managed to graze him across the hip. The other man hissed in pain, but barely flinched. Tony pressed his advantage and shot at him again immediately.

All the while, around them the air pressure continued to increase.

“Okay, why the hell isn't he attacking me back?” Tony finally asked out loud, frustrated at his inability to just hit him already.

_“I am afraid I don't know sir. However, peculiarly enough, the oxygen levels in your immediate vicinity seem to have increased.”_

“The oxygen levels? And you think he's doing it? That's weird. Why would he want to – oh shit!” Tony realized what the Mandarin was planning mere seconds before a ring on his finger glowed and fire erupted out in a giant river of flames, heading down the path set for it, directly at him.

The heat was searing, hot beyond what fire should've been capable of. The HUD display became fuzzy, but Tony couldn't tell if it was the heat affecting the systems or him. Sweat poured down his face and he blinked rapidly to keep it out of his eyes. His limbs felt sluggish. Out of the corner of his eyes he could see an alarm light blinking red. It was hypnotic. Blink. Blink. Blink. Oh, hey, was that the outside temperature? Huh, no wonder it was so hot inside: that was the melting point of... of... something.

The comm crackled in his ear. It was designed by him. It wasn't supposed to do that... He should fix it. Because that's what he did. God, why was it so hot again?

As completely oppressive as the heat had been, when it suddenly vanished Tony barely had time to register relief before he was encased in freezing cold. He screamed as his overheated body was taken to the other extreme, the temperature regulators in the suit not designed for such rapid shifts. His skin burned and all he could think of was how much he wanted to get away from it. He tried to flail his limbs and found himself unable to do so. Glancing at the exterior displays he saw the flames were gone and a thick layer of ice had already formed around the suit in their stead. The heat of the repulsors was keeping his gauntlets from freezing over completely, but it was only a matter of time.

He officially hated those rings.

He wracked his brain, trying to think beyond the pain and figure out how to get out of the Mandarin's clutches. In the end, only one dumb, incredibly reckless idea came to mind. Putting as much power as he could into the repulsors, Tony shot up in a mostly straight line. When he'd gone as far up as he dared, he cut the power and let gravity pull him back down. He grit his teeth against the inevitable headache as the air pressure around him rapidly increased – the suit's internal regulation system dealt with a lot of it, but not all. It wasn't designed for anything this drastic. Which was clearly a design flaw he would have to fix. If he survived long enough to do so. He kept an eye on the external sensors, watching as friction from the fall heated the exterior of the suit and caused the ice to melt away.

He turned the repulsors back on just as he'd fallen past the Mandarin's ship. It was now clearly going down, its fall gradual as one of its engines was still working, which made it list to one side and directly into the path of the severely crippled NYD helicarrier. Down below, he caught a glimpse of War Machine and Thor frantically helping with evacuating the helicarrier. He couldn't see the Hulk anywhere.

Tony waited a moment for his systems to readjust and reboot from the strain they'd been put under. The comm system must've also gone offline because suddenly Steve's frantic voice exploded in his ear.

_“Iron Man, please respond. Tony, are you alright?!”_

Tony gave a small, tired smile and opened his end of the comm. “This is Iron Man. I'm alright. Well, I'm alive and in one piece anyway.”

_“Oh thank god. Are you still able to fight?”_

He skimmed the information on the HUD. “The suit's power levels are getting dangerously low and I'd like to avoid taking more of that ring stuff, 'cause that sort of extreme temperature shifting is really not good for structural integrity, but yeah, I can still fight for now.”

_“Okay, good. Then get back up here and be ready to act on my orders.”_

“Got it, Cap.”

Tony flew back up to the top of the ship. The Mandarin, it seemed, hadn't followed because Natasha had managed to distract him. She was balancing on the top hull of the ship, a long, sharp-looking dagger held against the throat of a woman with gold stitching on her collar, the Mandarin's symbol embroidered onto the white band on her right arm. It was the woman from the video footage: his second-in-command maybe?

“Jarvis, give me a close-up of their faces,” he said and Jarvis instantly complied. Genri was stone-faced, but it was almost _too_ hard, too carefully blank. The woman looked back, her face blank, but her eyes apologetic. Hm, so maybe not just his second-in-command, but a close friend as well. Or a lover?

The woman smiled. It was a beautiful smile, bright and forgiving, and just a little sad. And then she suddenly leaned forward and slit her own throat along Natasha's knife.

Tony gasped, his eyes widening. Even Natasha looked shocked. Had the Mandarin used his mental powers to force someone close to him to commit suicide? Except that looking at Genri's expression, at the slight crack that had appeared in his stone-faced mask, he wasn't so sure. There was a hint of grief in them now, and resignation as he lowered his eyes for a moment. “You are fools,” he said just loud enough for the words to be heard. “Mei was loyal to me and... cared for me too much to allow herself to become my weakness.”

Genri raised his eyes and now they were blazing fury. He lifted his hand towards Natasha, the ring on his finger already glowing. Tony fired both plasma guns in his direction. The shots went completely wild thanks to the damage they'd taken, but it got the Mandarin's attention. He glowered at Tony. “Mister Stark, I would admire your tenacity if I wasn't so irritated by it.”

“What can I say? I live to irritate.”

The Mandarin smirked and swung his hand towards Tony. “I wonder how much longer you can manage to live to do so.”

A streak of energy flew towards him, but Tony managed to duck under it. The Mandarin followed behind the attack, coming at Tony with flames fanned by wind and murder in his eyes. Tony fired a repulsor blast at him, which he easily evaded. Shit, he'd need to get onto solid ground soon before his repulsors failed completely.

A whirling object darted across his vision and hit the Mandarin before whirling back out of sight again. The flames disappeared almost instantly, the wind beneath the Mandarin's feet wavering for a moment as he doubled over in surprise and pain. But before Tony had a chance to figure out what had just happened, Steve was there, his shield back in his hand as he broke the Mandarin's jaw with one, solid punch. Then he used the other man's thighs to kick off and give himself just enough momentum to spin in mid-air and hit him across the ribs with his shield. Tony winced, because Captain America clearly wasn't pulling his punches.

And then he was falling, because Captain America could do a lot of things, but flying wasn't one of them. Tony dived down and grabbed him by the middle. “Jesus, you crazy bastard, what the hell was that? Decided going splat was worth punching the Mandarin?”

He heard Steve chuckle over the comm. _“Nah, knew you'd catch me. Now, take us to the Shield helicarrier. With any luck he'll be pissed off enough to follow.”_

“Shield helicarrier, got it.”

As Steve had hoped, the Mandarin followed, already using the rings to heal the damage he'd been dealt. Tony landed on the platform and set Steve down. “I sure hope you have a plan.”

Next to him, Steve shrugged. “Part plan, part gut instinct, part crossing my fingers and hoping I'm right.”

“And you're supposed to be a genius tactician.”

Steve raised an amused eyebrow at him, even as he kept his eyes on the approaching Mandarin. “Tony, the first thing you learn about battleplans, is that they tend to fall apart the minute you actually encounter the enemy. A tactician who can't alter his plans on the fly is a useless one.”

“Isn't that what Plan B is for?”

“We're long past Plan B. This is Plan G.”

The Mandarin set himself down onto the helicarrier platform. He looked exhausted, but did an amazing job of hiding any pain he was still feeling. He glared at Steve. “Captain America, now that is an unexpected surprise. You and the Avengers disappeared two hundred years ago. Where in the world did Stark manage to unearth you from?”

“Your ancestor managed to put us out of commission,” Steve answered, moving carefully to the side, his shield raised slightly in front of him. “Unfortunately for you, he didn't actually kill us, just put us into a sort of stasis.”

Tony frowned, wondering why Steve was answering. He moved closer to Steve, ready to step in front of him if he needed to.

_“Sir, the air temperature is rapidly falling!”_

Tony's eyes widened and he looked to Steve, who was indeed starting to turn a bit blue. He could see his breath in the air as frost began to form in patches on his suit. What the hell was Steve doing? Couldn't he feel that?!

“Steve?!” he said over the comm.

 _“Not yet, T-tony.”_ Steve's voice was quiet and his lips barely moved. At a second glance, he could see Steve's jaw clenching as he fought to react against the cold, his eyes shining with determination. His eyes never left the Mandarin as he continued to move back and to the side with careful steps.

The Mandarin followed Steve's movements and stepped forward. “What's this, Captain? Did you think that if you got me onto the helicarrier then you'd have the advantage of superior numbers? Do you think the plasma guns pointed in my direction frighten me?”

He raised a hand towards a small contingent of Shield agents taking cover behind energy bunkers and hoverdocks, their plasma guns pointed directly at the Mandarin. One of the rings on his fingers glowed and then an invisible wave swept across the deck, sending the agents and their guns flying back, toward the control tower. Several hit the tower with sickening force, while others went flying father down the runway, and a few unlucky ones disappeared off the edge.

 _“Clint!”_ Steve whispered urgently through gritted teeth.

 _“On it, Cap,”_ came the quiet reply and Tony breathed a sigh of relief, knowing those agents weren't just going to be left to fall to their deaths.

The helicarrier's uninvited guests had apparently already been evicted, because the second the dust settled, a door opened and several agents carrying what looked like medivac equipment quickly dashed out, stretchers hovering behind them. He looked back to Steve, who looked like he was just barely keeping his teeth from chattering. Enough was enough, Tony thought. He raised his repulsor... and saw that his gauntlet was covered in a giant block of ice. He glanced at the sensor readings and realized his feet were frozen to the metal deck. The Mandarin noticed his movement and looked over, smirking slightly.

Well, fuck. “Uh, Cap, that plan of yours? Now would be a great time to implement it.”

_“N-not up... to me...”_

“Shit, are you turning into an icicle?! Cap this is a horrible plan!”

_“'ll live... 'Sides, I'd be a C-capsicle.”_

“That is a horrible joke, I hope you know that.”

_“Was Anthony's.”_

He blinked. “Well then I guess we've found one thing I'm better at than Anthony.”

The Mandarin looked at them, his head held up triumphantly – looking much better now that his jaw was almost healed – and took a step forward. And then another. He raised a hand and one of his rings glowed. A single spark of flames danced up, a single teasing horror. Tony increased power to his gauntlet repulsor, ignoring Jarvis' warnings. He was not going to watch Steve burn to death. _He was not._

And then the Mandarin's head exploded like a ripe melon, blood and brain matter splattering into the air. A loud blast sounded just as his body began to fall to the ground. Tony stared down at the dead body, at the squishy, mangled mess that had once been a person's head. In his shock, he wasn't quite sure if should be elated or sick.

Steve finally collapsed to the ground. Moments later, they were swarmed by Shield agents. Someone threw a thick blanket over Steve while several others used pressure steamers to clear away the ice from Tony's suit. It wasn't until the Avengers began to gather around them that he finally let out the breath he'd been holding since the battle had begun and let himself believe it was actually over.

Falcon was the first to arrive, carrying Vision. He looked tired, but had a huge grin on his face nonetheless. Steve was considerably less blue by then, though he clutched at the blanket as if it were a lifeline. He looked at both of them and smiled. “Robot taken care of?” he asked.

Vision merely nodded, but Sam's grin widened. “Yup. You should've seen Vision, man, he was awesome. I mean, it was the Hulk who did the end smashing, but Vision had him pretty run down by that point.”

Tony stared in fascination as the tips of Vision's ears turned pink. “Thank you for your kind words, Sam, but I truly could not have defeated him alone.”

Sam grasped his shoulder. “And that's why you've got a team.”

Clint arrived in a stolen flyer with several rescued Shield agents only minutes before Natasha set Lola down. Tony cried just a little at the scratched paintwork, scorch marks and dented front bumper, but was happy to see Hank and Jan sitting in the back, looking only slightly scratched and bruised. Thor took a while longer to arrive, given that he was waiting for the Hulk to calm down.

While they waited for Thor, Clint took an interest in the remains of the Mandarin, which no one had yet bothered to touch. He looked at the damage and raised an eyebrow. “You have lasers and plasma guns and you decide to use a Barrett to take him out?”

“What can I say, I'm old fashioned,” answered an unexpected voice. Tony watched Steve perk up and grin. “Not like you have much room to talk, Robin Hood.”

Bucky Barnes strode towards them with easy strides and a barely-noticeable limp. There was blood smeared across his temple and burns across the front of his body armour. He was also carrying a large black gun over his shoulder that Tony recognized vaguely as something that belonged in the first half of the twenty-first century. He stopped when he reached them and glared at Steve. “You are incredibly lucky, punk, that I happened to be ready and waiting for the bastard. What the hell would you have done if I hadn't?”

Steve, seemingly unaffected by the glare, merely shrugged. “Once a sniper, always a sniper. Jerk.”

Bucky let out a frustrated groan. “I don't know whether to kill you or kiss you right now.”

And Tony, being Tony, just couldn't help himself. “Uh not kissing. The only kissing will be from me.”

Which, naturally, got Bucky's attention focused on him. His smile was full of teeth. “That so?” he asked, as he lovingly caressed the giant gun.

Tony took a few steps back, until he was standing squarely behind Steve. Whose shoulders were shaking with laughter even as his ears were turning pink. Thankfully, Thor chose that exact moment to arrive, an exhausted and half-naked Bruce Banner by his side.

It was hours later, after they'd been given medical treatment, that they were finally allowed to return to the manor, where Pepper had a veritable feast prepared for them. Despite how tired they all were – and how much everything hurt – they managed to drum up enough energy to eat and drink. Even Vision joined them. (In other words, Tony had pulled out a chair for him, Steve had strong-armed him into it, and Pepper had threatened to tie him to it if he so much as thought about getting up to serve anyone.)

After the food had been devoured and several cases of beer had been drunk, Tony finally felt mellow enough to ask the question that had been plaguing him all evening. “So, what are you guys going to do now that the Mandarin's been defeated? I mean, you're obviously welcome to stay here if you want. Me casa cu casa and all that.”

Clint snorted. “Are you kidding me? I've spent two hundred years stuck inside this place staring at these guys. No offense, I love you guys, but I don't wanna see your mugs for a good long while.” He shrugged. “'Sides, the world's changed and so there's new sights to see, things to learn, graves to visit...”

In a single glance, Tony knew the others felt the same. A small part of him cried out in disappointment, but he got it, he really did.

“I must go home to Asgard so that they may know the truth that I am not dead,” said Thor gravely. He smiled gently. “I owe Sif many thanks for her loyalty.”

 

* * *

 

In the end, Steve was the last of them to leave, taking with him nothing but his shield and a single canvas pack. Tony wondered if he actually thought he'd be inconspicuous on his vintage motorcycle. It was two days after the battle and New York was still celebrating the victory. People had started coming home, chasing fear away with laughter and music and lots of alcohol. And soaking in any scraps of information about their heroes, about the ones who'd saved them.

The legend of the Avengers, Earth's Mightiest Heroes was spreading through the streets of New York like an out-of-control wildfire. Tony wasn't even sure where the story had originated. Was this Shield's doing?

Steve kissed him passionately on the steps of Stark Manor and then stepped away, taking part of Tony's heart with him. Tony wanted to tell him to stay. And then Steve smiled at him. “Don't worry, we'll be back. We just need to get our bearings again and I–” He paused, uncertain for just a moment. “I think we both need to be sure this wasn't just a convenience.”

“Just don't stay gone for too long,” said Tony, his throat thick with emotion he dared not name.

“I won't. I've got a good memory for anniversaries and the others... well, you already know that Thor loves a good party.”

And then he drove off into the early morning smog.


	20. Epilogue

Time flew by and Tony found himself surprised by just how much he missed them. And not just Steve, either. All of the Avengers had somehow managed to carve themselves a place on Tony's short list of friends. He wasn't quite sure it made sense, given that they'd been non-corporeal for about seventy-five percent of the time he'd known them. Relatively speaking, they were practically strangers. But he missed them anyway. The house seemed emptier than ever with only him, Vision and Jarvis living there.

Occasionally he would catch word about a mysterious redhead preventing a bio-droid from killing a family of four in California, or an archer of unknown origin taking down several United World Council-run surveillance beacons in Oklahoma. And then there were rumours about a dark-skinned man with wings flying around Washington, helping with relief efforts and chasing away looters. Unsurprisingly, the least subtle was the Hulk, who showed up in the middle of a loud and violent mob in West Virginia that had been attempting to destroy a large memorial statue dedicated to the creation of the United World Council. His sudden appearance put an immediate stop to the escalating violence. According to the videos posted onto the Network hub, the Hulk's eyes narrowed at the shocked mob, which prompted them to back away, opening up a path for him. At which point the Hulk had stomped up to the monument, flared his nostrils and then brought both fists down, instantly smashing it into many smaller pieces. He'd then turned and looked at crowd with an expression that seemed to say 'And that's how it's done'. Two weeks later, Culver University's student council voted unanimously to become the home of the Mighty Hulks. For some reason, Jarvis had seemed especially amused about that one.

And then there was Steve. Steve, who'd become a Network darling – and the Networks didn't _do_ darlings. In the same way they used to look up to spot the Flying City, people now watched the roads in hopes of catching a glimpse of the blond man and his antique motorcycle. And whenever he stopped somewhere, he immediately drew a crowd eager to hear his stories. Superheroes had been vigilantes, unlawful, their stories buried by people and time. It was as though a dam had burst and now that they could, people craved those stories. The Networks were full of tales telling of the deeds of the Fantastic Four, Spiderman, Daredevil, Ms Marvel, Captain America, and the Avengers thanks to Steve, Shield and collectors who were coming out of the woodwork, bringing with them old comic books and videos that had been hidden away for centuries like the most precious contraband.

The Stark Industries Museum got itself a new wing (otherwise known as a large room) dedicated to Captain America and the Avengers. It even included one of Anthony Stark's old Iron Man suits.

The Avengers themselves remained in the wind. They didn't call, they didn't write, and Tony didn't initiate contact, stubbornly refusing to be the first to cave. He wanted them to miss him as much as he missed them.

Finally, about a year later, they began trickling back. Tony wasn't sure if they'd somehow been in contact with each other, had agreed to it ahead of time, or just knew each other well enough that the decision had been instinctual, like a migrating gaggle of wayward geese. He never asked either. The year had gone by so quickly between rebuilding and containing the chaos that the eradication of several levels of government had inevitably caused, and working with Jan on his own crusade – their crusade. Not everyone was horrified to realize bio-droids were living creatures. Some, predictably, didn't care. The human race was nice like that. It made Jan livid with fury, and Tony all the more determined to be heard.

In other words, he might've been a bit distracted.

All he knew was that one morning he walked into the kitchen to find Natasha calmly sipping coffee as she browsed through the Network's news digests on a Stark holo-bracelet. Vision sat beside her serenely drinking tea (Tony still couldn't believe the bio-droid preferred tea to coffee: by all rights he should have absorbed a love of coffee through osmosis). The scene was so matter-of-fact and unremarkable that he couldn't think of anything to do or say without considerable awkwardness. So he poured himself coffee and sat down to join them.

She seamlessly slotted into his life as his self-appointed shadow. Unsurprisingly, not everyone was happily willing to give bio-droids their freedom of will and corresponding rights. They were created in a lab and designed to serve, they're not actually human but genetic experiments, was their reasoning. Natasha did a good job of making sure their negative opinions remained just words. She was _very_ good at it.

Bruce, he found puttering around in his lab one day. He'd come home exhausted, but desperate to get away from anything resembling people. Vision was out with a group of Shield operatives – and Lieutenant Hunter, who had managed to somehow get adopted by the Shield group for no reason other than persistence and a rather impressive alcohol tolerance – and therefore wasn't around to nag him about eating first. Tony had taken the drawing room elevator down to the Super Secret Stark Lab and peeked into Bruce's lab out of habit as he passed by. Only to stop, blink, and then double-back to make sure he wasn't hallucinating.

Bruce was wearing his lab coat and carefully measuring metal shavings of some sort on a lab scale. He looked like he'd been there for hours at least. The sad part was, Tony had been so busy that he wasn't sure Bruce hadn't, in fact, arrived days before. He'd grinned and slipped into the lab to take a look at what the other man was working on. Because Bruce didn't count as people, he was a scientist.

The next day, Tony heard sound coming from the entertainment room when he came home and went to investigate. There he found Natasha and Vision, along with Wanda, her brother Pietro, surrounded by popcorn, beer and other snacks settling in for a movie night. And Sam and Clint, who greeted Tony loudly. _They_ were at least willing to acknowledge they'd just arrived and hadn't been here the whole time.

Also, Steve had been right. Batman was awesome.

The manor once again became noisy, full of people. More Avengers also meant more Shield operatives hanging around – they took turns bringing beer and pizza so Tony allowed them to stay. It also started to mean movie nights and games nights, and just lounging around getting drunk and laughing-at-the-world nights. Sometimes Pepper and Rhodey joined them. It was nice. Tony had never had many social events that didn't come loaded with fancy suits, expectations and pressures. Though calling bumming out in the entertainment room in pyjamas a 'social event' was probably stretching the definition a bit.

Yet there was a hole in the manor that wasn't being filled. Every day, Tony woke up, wondering if today was the day Steve would finally come home. And every night – okay, night-ish – he would go to bed disappointed. Natasha, of course, noticed the way his face fell after he looked around the kitchen in the morning and found it still lacking a Steve-shaped presence. As they were leaving for the day, she placed a hand on his shoulder and gave him a rare, understanding smile.

“He'll be back, Tony,” she said, her eyes just a bit sad. “It's just that, out of all of us, he has the most graves to visit.”

Tony had nodded to her. He understood, but understanding didn't make the ache in his chest any smaller. Sometimes, he was ashamed to admit, he felt angry, jealous that all those dead people seemed to mean more to Steve than he did. Which was what, eventually, made him realized he was in love with him. That was a bit unexpected. It didn't help when, a month after Natasha had shown up, Steve suddenly dropped off the radar.

There were no new sightings, no new stories. Speculation was rife on the Network with theories as to what had happened to him. Had someone allied with the United World Council killed him? Had his nearly three hundred years of age suddenly caught up with him? Was he secretly saving the world again? He'd gone as far as England, visiting the grave of a Lord James Falsworth and then spending an evening regaling the local pub with more stories from his World War Two days with the Howling Commandos. It was the last anyone had seen of him.

Thor appeared in the midst of an extremely localized storm with a crash of thunder and a flash of light. Subtle, wasn't apparently a word Asgardians had much use for. He grinned widely at Tony and, after an embrace that felt a bit like an endurance exercise, introduced him to the Lady Sif and three other Asgardians, each of whom was carrying at least one barrel of mead. Tony instantly forgave him for the newly scorched design on his back lawn. He would just have to keep Pepper away from it for a while.

They were somewhere into their second day of celebrations – and Tony wondered if anyone actually knew what they were celebrating – when he returned from a trip to the kitchens to find Director Barnes sitting on the large couch next to a passed-out Clint. He was idly watching Jan and Pirouette as they browsed through the Network's fashion blogs and mercilessly mocked the newest superhero-themed designs. Well, Jan was mercilessly mocking them, Pirouette was a shy, amused presence at her side. Barnes must've felt Tony's eyes on him, because he looked over and then raised a glass in Tony's direction.

And, suddenly, Tony just _knew_. Without another word, he turned and fled the room, running towards the front hall on legs that should've been clumsy with alcohol. Steve was just coming down the stairs from the bedrooms when he got there. They both froze in their steps and stared at the other.

Steve cleared his throat, his eyes carefully neutral. “You gave Vision my room.”

Tony blinked. Of all the things he'd expected Steve to say, that wasn't one of them. “Umm... yes? I mean, he needed a room and to be honest I hadn't actually realized it was your room at the time...” Was Steve angry with him? His face was blank Tony couldn't read.

“So I put my things in your room.”

It was a statement, but Tony wasn't so far gone that he couldn't hear the soft, unspoken question in the phrase, the little hint of vulnerability in how Steve was no longer quite looking at him. He swallowed and shrugged. “Eh, probably better in the long run. It'll save us moving it all in later.”

Intense blue eyes looked into his, the blankness slowly melting away. “Yeah?” Steve asked, his lips curling into a smile.

Tony grinned back. “Absolutely.”

Steve's smile became radiant. Tony decided he would move mountains for that smile. He would launch a thousand Iron Man armours for that smile. Then Steve lowered his eyes and ran a hand through his hair. “So, I've been on the road for the past few days. Think I could really use a shower before I'm fit to join any company.”

Tony nodded. “Okay, then I'll leave you to do that and I'll tell the others you're here.”

“ _Tony._ ” Steve was giving him a very pointed look. “I've seen your shower. It's _huge_.”

“Yes, it is – oh, right, yes it is, it most certainly is.” He stumbled as he hurried up the stairs. “Sorry, it's the Asgaridan mead. Has quite the kick to it. And apparently goes straight to my brain, makes me miss the obvious.”

Steve's laughter was just as beautiful as ever.

They were half-way down the hall to his – no, _their_ – room, when Tony suddenly realized something. He paused and turned to Steve. “So, before you left you said that you're good with anniversaries, but the anniversary of the Mandarin's defeat was, like, three weeks ago. You're a bit late.”

Steve's eyes became sad. “Yeah, but not that it's not great that we saved the world and all, but that's just sort of what we do. As an anniversary it's not really all that important to us. But tomorrow... tomorrow's the anniversary of Anthony's death.”

Tony's eyes widened. “Oh. I didn't know that.”

Steve quirked his lips. “Wouldn't have expected you to. Besides, none of us are really much for public displays of grief. I imagine they all know where his grave is and they'll visit it at some point. I'd like it if you went with me, though, if you don't mind.”

Tony reached up to caress Steve's cheek and then brought him down for a tender kiss. “Of course I'll go with you,” he whispered into his lips. Then he pulled back and made a point of looking back towards the door to the rest of the manor. “So how long do you suppose we have before we're missed?”

Steve shrugged. “Day two of Asgardian mead? We probably won't be missed for hours.”

“Hours, huh?”

_“Hours.”_

 

* * *

 

The next day, the Avengers were a bit subdued, but if anyone other than Tony noticed, they didn't comment. Every once in a while, Tony would look up and notice one of them gone, but he could never be sure how long they'd been gone for.

Except for Thor, who did nothing quietly. “My friends, you must excuse me for a short time,” he'd announced, his face more serious than Tony ever remembered seeing it. “I have some important business I must attend to. But have no fear, I shall return.”

He was gone for about an hour and then came back with grief shadowed in his eyes, but a jovial grin on his face, and cracked open another barrel of mead.

It was nearly dusk when Steve finally took Tony to the graveyard. They took Steve's motorcycle, Tony hanging on for dear life because the roads really were horrible and Steve was an especially reckless driver when there was no one else around. The gravestone was easy to find, not only for its size, but because it showed evidence of its visitors. Someone had placed a large, translucent dome-shaped security container – of the sort that museums and jewellery stores used for their most precious pieces – just in front of the gravestone. The name 'Anthony Edward Stark' was still visible in bold letters behind the dome, but the dome's contents were what caught his eye.

There were flowers surrounding the grave, of course, but the Avengers weren't really people who said things with flowers. The most prominent item inside the dome was a framed photograph of the Avengers. Iron Man was noticeably missing, but in his place, Anthony Stark beamed proudly at the camera between a fully-suited Captain America and the Hulk. In front of the frame sat a small card with a picture of Iron Man and the red Avenger's logo in the background. Surrounding the frame was an arrow, a sleek, sharp-looking combat knife, a single metal feather, a pitcher of what looked like Asgardian mead and an old, burnt-out Iron Man gauntlet holding a stoppered vial.

Steve took in the dome and its contents and smiled around the tears in his eyes. He reached into his cloth messenger bag and pulled out a bottle of scotch. Tony recognized it instantly. It was one of the bottles Anthony had left down in his workshop. Then Steve pulled out two glasses, handing Tony one. Tony remained silent, somehow sensing that whatever personal ritual Steve was performing, it required silence. He settled down on the grass in front of the grave and watched as Steve unstopped the bottle.

Steve poured them each a glass of the scotch and then poured out half the bottle onto Anthony's grave. Tony smiled softly. Yeah, that was a fitting tribute to a Stark. Somehow, he was sure Anthony would've appreciated it.

“Anthony,” he heard Steve say softly, just loud enough for Tony to catch. “You were a good friend, and a great partner even if I didn't know it was you inside the armour. I wish I had. I wish you had trusted us with your secret, but most of all I wish you were still here. When I woke up in a strange new world and discovered that time had gone on without me while I slept, you helped me find my footing. I'm sorry that, in the end, we left you alone, but I'm glad you managed to find the strength to move on, to not let our loss rule your life like it had your father's. I'm also glad that you planned ahead. You called yourself a futurist, were looking ahead even if you couldn't ever entirely forget what had happened before. I'm sure you'd be happy to know it saved our lives and a lot of others. Not that it surprises me. No matter what you thought about yourself, Anthony, you _were_ a good man. I hope you managed to find peace and forgiveness before the end. I also hope that you knew that no matter how much time passes, you will always be an Avenger. And that I'll always miss you. Rest in peace, my friend.”

His piece said, Steve stepped back and then sat down on the grass next to Tony, placing the bottle between them. They sat drinking in companionable silence until the bottle was empty. And before they left, Steve placed the empty bottle inside the dome, along with a pastel drawing he pulled out of his messenger bag, securing it behind them. Tony took a few moments to stare at the picture of a laughing Steve in his Captain America suit, cowl pulled off his head and his arm around Iron Man's shoulder. Iron Man had his faceplate up to reveal the laughing face of Anthony Stark. He couldn't help the small smile on his face as he followed Steve out of the graveyard.

Once outside, Steve's movements suddenly became rushed. Tony laughed as he practically threw the motorcycle helmet at him. “Woah, what's the rush Steve?”

Steve raised an eyebrow at him. “Well, we don't wanna miss the party.”

Tony's eyebrows rose. “Uh, I hate to break it to you, but we've spent the last three days partying.”

“Yeah, but that was to celebrate the lives of the old Avengers, of Anthony and Ms Marvel and the others who aren't with us anymore.” He got onto the motorcycle and started the engine. “Tonight we're celebrating our newest team members.”

Tony grinned and hopped onto the back of the bike. “Well count me in on that one, Cap.”

“Just hang on, Shellhead.”

“Shellhead? Seriously, you're going to go there, Spangles?”

“Just hang on.”

“No, really, you're actually going to – woah!”

Tony's grin only grew wider as they drove back to Stark Manor. Oh, who was he kidding? Even the Network gossips were calling it the Avengers Manor. Who was _he_ to argue?


End file.
